Accelerant
by Hard-Knock-Life
Summary: Like accelerant poured onto a fire, the situation burned out of control. Rae Colter must survive with only her wits, years of horror movie trivia, and the friends she's made along the way. It's going to be a bumpy ride. Mild OCXLeonXClaire. OCCentric. Mildly Self-Aware. INDEFINITE HIATUS
1. Spark

Spark

**Rating:** M**  
Warnings: **Violence, Language, Drug/Alcohol References/Abuse, Mild/Explicit Sexual Content**  
Disclaimer:** All properties related to the Resident Evil/Biohazard series belong to Capcom. Any other products are the intellectual property of their respective owners.**  
A/N: **So, I watched Markiplier play the Resident Evil 2 Remake and I was absolutely blown away by it! I bought it the same day and have fallen madly in love with it. Seriously, Capcom blew it out of the water! Anyway, inspiration for an OC story struck. Because that's what happens when you're a fangirl, you write fanfiction.

So, I wanted an OC that I don't think I've seen before on here. I wanted her to be genre savvy but not overpoweringly knowledgeable. No military background or fighting skills, even. Just common sense, basic firearm training, and a really sharp knife. I hope I do well on this because I've really put a lot of heart into it. Anyway, please read and enjoy!

This is the third and final version of this chapter. The first was uploaded with the goal to either convert it to a standalone oneshot or create a whole story from; the second was to convert it to a functioning first chapter of an actual story, the third was to finalize the concepts presented within and correct spelling mistakes that I may have missed earlier. Hopefully all mistakes are gone by this one but, there may be one or two left. Thank you xXxRena-MariexXx for your editing efforts!

:.:

September 1998 had blown out with a storm.

The rain came down in buckets and cold air chased away thoughts of the rapidly-fading summer. Rae Colter was curled up on her window seat, sipping coffee and watching the umbrellas mill about on the street below her. Her tiny studio apartment was chilly in the early-morning air, so she had wrapped herself under a ruby red velvet throw until the old radiator finally decided to wheeze to life. In the background some classic spaghetti western was playing on her television, complete with bad audio dubbing and cheesy lines. It was a classic tale of love and loss, with the main hero chasing after the rather nasty character who'd kidnapped his wife. A gunshot came from the speakers, followed by a horse's whinny of distress. Rae gulped down a mouthful of her steaming drink, uncaring if it burnt her throat. It was too cold and dreary to do much of anything except for staying in and watching movies. While that was her favorite pastime, she'd been itching to go to the video mart down the road and pick out some new titles. She'd practically memorized her current collection.

Adulting was boring. Watching movies was really all she could do to stay sane. College life was lonely, without her dad's boisterous laugh and his pals from the station crowding their small house. Sure, she had a few friends, but they weren't the type to really go out and do anything. She could always get her daily dose of human interaction at class, or the orphanage, or the Thai place across the street. Well, she could if only it wasn't her day off and she wasn't on a diet. She'd get a dog to keep her company if she weren't deathly terrified of them. So she watched movies until she could quote them all the way through.

Rae's socked feet padded across the room to the kitchenette, where she emptied out any remaining grounds that'd collected at the bottom of her tasty beverage. The kitchenette rested against the same wall as her bed, across from the 'living room' and next to the bathroom door. It was a sad sight, sporting only a sink and an oven—that worked half the time if she were _really _lucky. At the very least, the cabinetry was sturdy enough to handle her hand-me-down mismatched dishware. Speaking of which, her dishes rattled in the cabinets in an ominous manner. In fact, the whole wall was shaking thanks to the _noisy_ neighbors she shared it with. The couple in the apartment next to hers had been trying for a baby for months now with seemingly no success. That or they were just _really_ into each other. Rae had been incredibly embarrassed about it for the first few days, but had quickly grown desensitized to it all, given that they did the dirty deed at least three times a day. A friend from college had told her that she needed to find herself a man with that stamina. Rae disagreed. She liked her solitude, thank you very much.

The woman next door let out a low keen as the headboard slammed into the wall repeatedly. The walls of the old apartment building were thin enough that Rae could even hear the muted sound of skin slapping on skin. Rae wished they'd give it a rest. With any luck, the guy would pull a muscle or something and be out of commission for a bit. She'd originally turned on the movie to drown them out, to no avail. At this rate they were going to either knock the wall down or fall through the floor. Mr. Dawes would have a fit; he'd turn purple! Suppressing a giggle at the thought, she turned her focus to the movie.

The television sported the image of two men tussling on top of a moving train. Some sort of odd energetic music was playing over the fight, and the sound mixing was terrible enough that the track interrupted itself and restarted. The cowboy in black beat the one in brown over the head with his pistol, knocking him from the train. Rae rolled her eyes as the movie jump cut to the brown-clad man falling in a lake. She loved the bad editing and cheap production of these types of films. So bad they're good, as her dad would say. He was the one who'd gotten this one for her, if she remembered correctly. It'd come in a box set with two others by the same director—all equally tasteless.

"I'll get you Black Billy, even if it's the last thing I do", she mumbled under her breath along with the movie, perfectly in time with the man's own line. The cowboy on screen humorously slapped the water in _frustration—_were the actors given any direction?—as the movie faded to black. "I wish I had the sequel so I knew how it ended." Of course she could take a guess: Brown-clad bounty hunter kills his rival in black and rescues his lady friend; they ride off into the sunset. Movies were easy to predict. Real life? Not so much.

The tape finished rewinding with an abrupt 'click'. Rae ejected the cassette from the player and slid the VHS back into its sleeve. It went back to its proper place on her shelves, right next to "My Name is Nobody" and "Buddy Goes West". Her collection had swollen since she'd moved out. She'd left Huntsville with a shelf's worth of tapes and had somehow managed to fill an entire hutch in the span of a year. Some of the boxes on the shelves even held new DVDs, which she'd taken an interest in despite not having a player yet.

Ever since she was little, Rae had gotten along with pictures better than people. Her father had been a fan of classic horror, while her mother had liked the cheesy romance movies of decades past. She missed curling up on the couch between her parents and watching the stories unfold with them. Those were simpler times, before she'd become an adult and run off to start her own life in the big city. She'd developed her parents' hobby and found herself immersed in movies. They were her one, true love. She'd even joined Film Club on her college campus and made a few friends who shared her interests. A new tape found its way into the player and she resumed her spot on the window seat.

Rae Colter had grown up in Huntsville, which was an absolutely _massive_ town with a staggering population of five thousand and twelve. The community was close-knit, meaning that everybody knew everybody's business. Always. She'd never much cared for the small-town politics. She'd preferred the drama in movies to the real life thing. High school had been a lonely affair, between self-imposed isolation and her father's constant meddling in her social life. She'd been happy when she'd graduated with high honors and been offered a scholarship at South Side University because it'd meant getting away from everything for a bit, discovering herself. Over a year had passed and she was just beginning her second year of college as a business major. Despite the less-than-glamorous apartment on the shabby side of town, she was happy. Or at least, she thought she was. There were times when she felt overwhelmed, but apparently that was common for college students.

In the corner, her radiator finally groaned. It was about time, Rae grumbled internally. She'd have to talk to Mr. Dawes about getting it either fixed or replaced; it'd pooped out on her at the tail-end of February and hadn't been the same since. Rae leaned up against the window and pressed her head to the cool glass. When would the rain stop? Despite the drizzle, the alleyway outside of her home was bustling with life. Children splashed in puddles outside the Thai restaurant across the street, people were walking their dogs, and two men had even found the energy to get into a fairly loud argument about 'Jennifer'. She watched as one of the men sucker punched the other right in the gob. Ouch. Her eyes narrowed as they swept over a man leaning up against the wall, vomiting. Drunk, probably. Rae watched as another man bent to help him up, only to get attacked. The drunk clamped down on the business man's arm with his teeth, prompting other passerby's to help pull them apart.

Rae jumped when the wall phone's shrill tone pierced the air. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Who would be calling her? The only people that had her home phone number were her Father, Tiff and Jay-Jay (the only other two students in the Film Club), and the sweet Thai lady who owned the store across the street. Well, that last one she was unsure of. She certainly called for takeout enough that they _should_ have her number saved. Rae lowered the volume on the new movie and plucked the phone from its holder.

"Hello? Rae Colter speaking. Who may I ask is calling?" Always polite, just like her father taught her.

"Hey, Chevy. Miss you, kiddo." She'd recognize that silly nickname anywhere. She gave a soft smile and leaned against the wall, careful not to wrap herself up in the phone cord. "Been a while. When are you going to drop in for a visit?"

Rae sighed and clutched receiver close. "Daddy, I went home at the end of last month. And I'm due for another visit next week. Even asked off for it."

"I know. I'm just worried."

Charles Colter was a worrier. He'd worried himself sick when she'd decided to move to the next town over (and subsequently forty-five minutes away) instead of going to Huntsville Community and staying at home. The man had been a cop for decades and the job had given him a fine grey speckling throughout his hair and wrinkles on his face. Stress had been his simple explanation. He'd once told her that he worried for her so much because of what he'd seen on the job. He'd worried even more after her mom had been killed in a car accident—Rae was ten at the time. Given everything that had happened, the man was hard to live with after the accident. She had a strict curfew set and wasn't allowed to go out without supervision even after she'd received her driver's license. He became a helicopter parent, hovering around her at all times. In the end, she still loved him and recognized that it was to keep her safe and put his mind at ease; despite that, she'd be lying if she said that the overprotective streak hadn't been part of her decision to move further away.

"You're always worried, you goof." Rae snorted a bit in laughter. "You're going to make yourself sick someday, you know?"

"I know, I know", he grumbled good naturedly. "Just wanted to check up on my baby girl. Make sure you're having fun at school and the boys are staying away. Typical dad stuff." Please, like there were any boys interested in her anyway. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm failing all of my classes and having to beat the boys away with a stick."

"Lies."

Rae giggled. "I never lie. I just bend the truth a bit." She moved the receiver to her other ear so she could peer out the window. The drunk had gone and the crowd had dissipated. Big city life was strange. "Classes are going well. Everybody's doing big projects right now, so I haven't been on campus for any lectures. Professor Simmons is having us do a twenty page report on raising productivity in a theoretical workplace. Definitely not looking forward to that. At all."

"Have you started any internships with that one company? The one your friend's uncle works for? "

Tiffany's Uncle Bill was some sort of hotshot in Research and Development at the Umbrella Corporation. It was a blanket company that, much like its namesake, oversaw many different business ventures. Just in the last five years they'd bought out Ashford and Sons' legal firm, Knight Construction Company, and United Telecommunications—Rae's own phone provider. They even funded local agencies out of pocket, like the orphanage and police stations. Rae had considered joining her friends there, but had instead been offered a job by an old buddy of her father's. Besides, she heard Umbrella was a terror to work for.

"Nooope." She popped the 'p'. "Jake told me not to open that can of worms—"

"Film Club Jake, right? You'd better not have gotten a boyfriend without telling me."

"Yes, Film Club Jake. Jeez! Anyway… Umbrella runs its interns ragged. Jake said that last week they had him organize and distribute pamphlets to the entirety of the office building. And if you've seen the Umbrella high rise here in town, you know that's a pretty daunting task." The city had a sprawling urban area comprised of towering multi-story behemoths… the largest of which belonged to the Umbrella Corporation. "Besides, I'm still working at the orphanage three days a week, so I don't really have the time."

"You still enjoy it there?"

"Hmmm… It's rewarding work, I guess."

Rae could hear her father chuckle on the other end. "That's probably the most noncommittal answer I've ever heard come out of your mouth. So I take I the job's not as perfect as you'd hoped it would be? I told you that taking care of troubled kids would be hard. But you said—"

"—it's good character building. Bite my toes, Dad! It's still building plenty of character… it's just not going as fast as I would've hoped." The kids at the orphanage didn't trust easy. They could be stubborn little twerps when they wanted to. It was difficult for new faces to be welcomed, but Rae understood why they were to slow to bond with people.

"Did something happen, Chevy?"

Rae leaned against her faded green wallpaper. She pursed her lips as she thought how she wanted to answer. Her sock-covered toes wiggled as she mused. "Yes and no. It just feels like whenever I make progress, I'm losing it at the same time. You know? I've been working with this little boy, Markus. He's quiet, doesn't like people very much."

Markus had always been hard to connect with. He was stubborn, withdrawn. It was a chore trying to interact with him, especially because he never listened to her. He always stared straight through her like she wasn't there, like he was a zombie. Rae didn't think she'd ever even heard him speak. It was sad, because she'd been told that he'd once been a sweet kid who was full of life. Whether it was being separated from his parents for so long or just the stress of not being put up for adoption, he just… gave up. Rae had volunteered to work with him because she wanted to help bring that smile back. Maybe it was selfish, because he reminded her of herself after the car accident.

"I bet you guys get along great, then. Kindred souls." She pictured her dad's smile stretching wide across his face, accentuating his crow's feet and laugh lines. She missed his smile.

"Haha", she deadpanned. "It's actually been hard getting him to open up to me. We played together a few days ago and he actually shared his toys! I thought, 'yay, I'm doing good'. Then yesterday we were told that the kids had to start writing in their journals every day instead of twice a week. That… didn't go over well."

"He cry? Throw a tantrum?"

Rae absentmindedly scratched at the bandage wrapped around her hand. "The little monster tried to take a chunk out of me! Bit the area between my thumb and pointer finger pretty good, actually." At that revelation, Charles Colter burst out laughing at her expense. She could almost see him throwing his head back in mirth, whole chubby belly shaking in time with his laughs. Rae let out an indignant squawk. "It's not funny, Dad! He drew blood. Like, it was an actual chomp, not just a love nibble!"

The orphanage required all of the children to be tested once a week. Rae been told by one of the matrons that sickness tended to pass through the orphanage like a wildfire. Kids were little germ monsters, after all. Rae had once given her parents and entire extended family the flu after a Christmas celebration; _that_ was a story for another time. Markus had apparently harbored a deep-rooted fear of doctors. The visits tended to bring out the worst in his personality. Rae had made the mistake of touching his journal, and the boy had seen red and clamped down on her hand until she let go. It'd hurt like a bitch! He'd kicked, fussed, screamed. The matrons had escorted him away after the tantrum, but Rae hadn't told them about the bite for fear of getting the boy into even more trouble and having him hate her. All of her progress over the months would go down the drain.

"Oh, it can't be that bad, Chevy. He's, what, five? Six? Kiddos have little teeth. I even got bit by you a couple of times." And you probably deserved it, you butt, Rae thought. "It'll heal up in no time."

"Yeah, maybe." Rae glared at the gauze on her hand and rubbed it. "It itches pretty bad, though. I might go get it checked out by a doctor. After that tantrum, I'm worried Markus might have rabies."

"Don't be rude, Chevy."

"Last time I checked, biting people was rude", she groused.

"So, beyond that… Any new people in your life? Any new friends? I know you have trouble talking to people." I wonder whose fault that is, she commented internally. It was hard to make friends with your dad leaning over your shoulder, and she'd never exactly been sociable in the first place. "This it totally not a ploy to see if you've met anybody, by the way."

Right, Dad. "Like I told you earlier, I don't have a boyfriend. But if you keep asking me, I might just get one to spite you." She paused thoughtfully. "Or a girlfriend."

Very seriously he responded, "Go with that second one. Boys are evil."

God, he was a menace. Her lips quirked up in good humor. "How are things there? Any criminal masterminds hanging around our town?" Small town police stations were a mixed bag; one day there was absolutely nothing of interest happening, the next day there would be a million dollar drug bust in an apartment complex off of Main Street that climaxed with the redneck owner of said apartments having an armed standoff with police in nothing but a towel. True story.

"Not after Professor McEvilFace turned the observatory into a shrink ray, I'm afraid. It's been _boring_." It wasn't becoming of a man in his forties to whine like a kid.

"Shouldn't you be happy there's no crime?"

"Nah. Job security." He paused for a moment, then got serious. "But anyway, this actually isn't a social call. Have you heard about what's been going on in Clements—"

The power suddenly went out and the phone clicked off. She pulled it away from her ear. "Okay. So, that was strange." She wondered what he'd been about to say. Clements? That was a neighborhood a bit north of her. It was the urban center of the city and the home of the Umbrella building. She wondered what was going on there. Miss V would probably know, if anything. God, she'd have to call her dad back as soon as the power came back on or he'd freak out and think she was dead.

Rae peered out the window and watched as the Thai place's lights flickered back on. Her own television turned back on as well, though the cheesy rom-com that she'd put in the VCR had stopped playing. She placed the phone to her ear. No dial tone. Weird. Instead, there was shrill buzzing. She pressed a few buttons and even tried unplugging it again and again to resuscitate it. Surely if the power was back on her phone should be working, right? Rolling her eyes, she pulled on some warmer clothes and headed downstairs to talk to Mr. Dawes about her apparently dead phone. On her way out, she noted with annoyance that the elevator was still out of order. It'd be nice if something in her apartment would actually work correctly. Then again, with the rent she was paying she was surprised the roof hadn't caved in yet. At least she'd have great buns and thighs from climbing the stairs every day. She approached the apartment office on the first floor and dinged the bell to let him know she was waiting.

Mr. Dawes came out of his office in a huff. "Yes, girl. I know about the power outage. It's getting in the way of watching my soaps. Damn TV turned off right when I was about to find out who the killer actually was, too." The tiny man muttered under his breath about how it was obviously the 'alien clone from the future' and he was 'damn sure of it'. Soap operas were weird.

Dawes was a small built man, nearly as short as her and way more insecure about it. He also had a temperament that was similar to his stature. He tended to get upset about everything, big or small. Rae had once seen him throw a tenant's dining room chairs out a window because she'd been a few days late on a payment. It hadn't been fun nearly getting a concussion from flying furniture. She was just thankful that the rent was dirt-cheap and that he pretty well left them alone as long as they paid on time. When he wasn't charging them for stupid inconvenience fees, anyway. He ruled the building like some sort of evil tyrant; Rae's favorite neighbor had even started calling Dawes 'Lord Gnome'. It was scary how fitting it was.

"Um, Mr. Dawes, I'm not here about the power. I wanted to put in a request for my phone to be fixed. It just stopped working."

The squat man was already red in that face, but that statement made him turn a bit purple. "Now, you listen here: that phone was brand new whenever you moved in! I'm sick of getting complaints from you about your apartment. 'Mr. Dawes, my shower won't get warm'; 'Mr. Dawes, my radiator stopped working'; 'Mr. Dawes, I can't figure out how to use my phone properly'." He did a poor job of mimicking her. She winced at the whiny tone he'd taken. "Well, I'll call your damn phone and show you that it's working just fine. Then you can march your pretty little ass right back up the stairs and answer it!" Well, she'd have to march up the stairs because he was too cheap to fix the stupid elevator!

He picked up the front desk phone and placed it to his ear. Rae watched his face contort as he pressed buttons. First was the annoyance, then the disbelief. His expression ultimately settled on anger. It was interesting to watch him darken a few shades and start to sweat, but she wasn't looking forward to the fallout from whatever had just made him mad.

"What the hell is up with the shitty phone service! I knew Umbrella buying up United Telecom was a terrible idea. Told everyone, Umbrella can't manage a damn phone company. Had nothing but problems with them for months now. But, no, no one listened to Dawes. Never fuckin' do!"

Apparently his phone was down, too. Rae took that as her cue to flee and tried to shrink away. She managed to inch a few steps away before he grabbed her arm and smashed a crumpled up piece of paper into her hands, told her to go 'use a damned payphone to call about this shit', then promptly slammed the door of his office open and disappeared inside. She blinked in confusion, staring at the door for a moment. Okay? For good measure, the man had even closed the shutters behind the door glass. Jerk! The poor paper in her hand was a business card for United Telecom with a number to call and a few stains on it. She didn't want to know what they were. Why was this suddenly her job? He was the owner of the stupid building, so he should go do it! She stuck her tongue out childishly and turned on her heel to go find a payphone.

Hands shoved into her pockets, she hunched over in her walk to the nearest unoccupied phone booth. It was usually hard to find an empty one during midday, so she wasn't surprised when she had to walk a few blocks. Trying to ignore the sensation of water sloshing in her tennis shoes, she lamented not putting on something waterproof. Then again, she hadn't expected to be sent on a trip across town in the rain. She quickly ducked into the booth before it could be taken and dropped a quarter in the coin slot. Dawes owed her a quarter now, too. She was just petty enough to request he take it off her rent this month. She dialed the number on the card and was met with waiting music. The young woman wrapped her arms around herself and stared out the foggy windows of the box. It wouldn't be too surprising if she was waiting there for a while, given that quite a few people's phones had probably gone down. She'd be irritated if she went back home and everything was perfectly fine and all this was for absolutely nil.

The music suddenly stopped and the phone sounded like it was being picked up. Then a click sounded and her call ended. Had she just been hung up on?! Well, that was complete bull! Complete and utter waste of money. Rae huffed and almost slammed the phone down. So she dialed the stupid number and called again. This time the phone didn't even connect. The line was busy. Oh well. It wasn't like she used her phone too much anyway; besides, this was Dawes's job. Then, she quickly remembered. Oh, right… Dad. He was probably freaking out over her dropping a call. Hell, she could picture him gearing up and getting ready to come find her. She rattled around her pockets for another quarter. If she had known she'd be sent out on a quest across the city, she'd have brought her wallet with her, too. She managed to find another one before dialing her dad's number as well.

The man was about as hysterical as she thought he'd be. Apparently, she'd been right about him getting his gear on. She could hear the police radio humming in the background. And the jingle of his uniform, even over his frantic talking. The college student gently placated him, assuring him that she was fine. She told him that her phone had gone down, and that her building owner was a complete jerk. And lazy. And that she was currently roaming the streets doing his bidding, like the minion of some supervillain. That got a laugh from him, though it was strained. Worry wart.

"I'll be fine, Daddy. I'm a tough girl, remember?"

"I know, Chevy. Just please stay safe. Oh, and don't go anywhere near Clements if you can help it."

Clements? She wondered why he was so worried about Clements. She lived in the Murphysboro neighborhood and they were at least twenty minutes apart by bus. Besides, she didn't have any reason to go there anyway; the only things in Clements were businesses and pricy, high-end clothing stores. Rae could shop in Rhodes to the east for a quarter of the cost—and it had some vintage movie stores, so that was a plus.

"I don't really get out much, so I don't have much reason to go there. Why? Something happening in Clements?"

"Jeez, Chevy, don't you watch the news?" Rae turned red from the rebuke. She hadn't exactly gotten around to having cable television installed. Besides, her neighbor across the way usually filled her in on the big stuff. Miss Vasquez was _very_ reliable. "I heard about it from Joe Watson—old high school pal—at JavaTech. Apparently there's some civil unrest. Police called, people arrested. Isolated incidents so far, but you know how quickly things like that can get out of control. Promise me that if anything happens you'll go to that police station down the road from you."

"I promise." She was leaning against the glass wall of the payphone now, lost in thought. She hadn't been aware of any upheaval in the city, but then again she wasn't exactly a social butterfly. Hell, she had two friends and she _still _hadn't even asked Jake's last name! She was pretty well out of the loop. Rae let out a sigh; she really needed to buck up and call someone to set up her television properly. "I'll hunker down and watch some movies, or something. I don't have anywhere to be until Sunday, anyway."

"That's my good girl. It should calm down in a few days, Chevy. If it turns into a riot don't go outside. Not that that would even be an issue with you, you recluse." His laugh was strained. "And if you have to, remember what I taught you." The phone gave a ding, warning her that her time with him was almost up.

"I will. Love you, Daddy. Say hi to Mom for me."

"Kay. Bye. Love you—" The machine cut him off.

Power outages, unrest in the city, the phones being down… And now it was starting to get foggy. Why did this feel like the beginning to a bad horror movie? She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose in thought. City life was so much crazier than she'd thought it would be. She was startled out of her thoughts by a loud thud on the glass. Jolting upright, she wiped away the fog from the windows and nearly let out a screech as the face of a man was pressed against the glass.

"Hey, sweetheart! Go somewhere else to powder your nose or whatever; some people have calls to make!"

She tried to calm her heart as she made her way out of the booth. The man, impatient, almost smashed her against the folding doors as he shoved himself past her. Jerk! At least he could've waited until she was out of the way before trying to get in the box. The rain had stopped, but now there was a thick layer of fog covering everything. Rae trembled in the cold, pulling her jacket around herself more firmly. The goosebumps on her arms were from something entirely different, though. Why was dread roiling in her stomach? She had such a bad feeling about everything, which could only be attributed to paranoia and watching _way_ too many horror movies before bed. She shuddered and began the long trek back home. The city suddenly felt creepy.

:.:

The phones never came back on. Two full days had come and gone with nothing resolved. It was understandable, especially if there was unrest in the Clements District. That was where their phone company was based, after all. It made Rae wonder if Umbrella was the target of the 'unrest'. She heard that they'd only recently laid off over three hundred employees. Maybe everything had just gotten to be too much? Maybe this was the breaking point? Maybe the workers had enough and organized a strike? In any case, Rae wanted her stupid phone to work again so she didn't have to leg it to a payphone every time she needed to call. She wished she had a mobile phone; if only they weren't so expensive!

According to Miss Vasquez, who was still a _very _reliable source of information, the unrest had turned into mini riots. There was talk about cordoning off Clements and bringing in the military to quell the disturbances. Fires were burning, traffic gridlocked, mass hysteria, people assaulting each other. Miss Vasquez's cousin had apparently seen a man biting another man's face. What was it with all the biting lately?! Seriously, could people stop being psychos for five seconds? Of course, Rae took all of this with a grain of salt since gossip had a tendency to blow things out of proportion. It sounded a bit too crazy to be true. The news hadn't officially reported anything on it, according to Tiffany. Rae's friend hadn't even known there was trouble in Clements until she'd phoned from the booth to check in. Even Rae's crazy in-the-know dad hadn't heard anything other than rumors—though that hadn't stopped him from fretting her ear off the night before about coming back home and waiting for everything to blow over.

Rae laid down on her sofa, lost in thought. She took a peek at the mini calendar on her coffee table; it was the twenty-fourth. Tiffany's birthday was less than a week away. She'd have to work on getting a gift. What did people usually get for their friends' birthday? This was honestly the first time she'd had a good friend. Wow, that was a sad thought. Sighing, she acknowledged that she was probably a complete failure of a human. Deciding to do the mature thing and eat her feelings, she shoved popcorn into her face.

Today she'd chosen a zombie movie from the sixties. Probably not a great choice, since she was already on edge from the potential rioting in the city and distinct lack of a phone. Still, it was a classic. Rae laughed as one of the zombies broke through a pane of glass to grab the jerk stereotype and munch on his shoulder.

"And that's why you never stand in front of windows, idiot," she muttered through a mouthful of popcorn. "Or go off by yourself." Rule number one in a horror situation was 'stick together', yet _every_ movie ever seemed to break it. In fact, Rae was convinced that horror movie characters went out of their way to be as stupid as possible. She'd like to think that if she were in a horror movie, she'd at least be a bit more genre savvy than a goldfish.

This particular movie was the first in a pretty long series. The first couple had been pretty cheesy, low budget things with bad acting and low quality special effects. They had a pretty good story, though, and the camera angles could make the jump scares surprisingly terrifying. If she remembered correctly, the fourth was considered a masterwork of cinema, though she'd never seen it. Then they got a big budget and let the money go to their heads. They'd turned the series into some sort of weird mashup of action thriller and helpless suspense. Seriously, who looked at a horror movie and said 'this zombie flick needs more explosion and car chases'? They jumped the shark, the president turned into a zombie, the whole nine yards. Rae rolled her eyes. It was a silly decision, but she'd recently heard that they were remaking the earlier movies with modern tools in an effort to resurrect the beloved classics and take the whole thing back to its roots. Good for them.

God, she knew more about a stupid movie series than she did gift-giving. Maybe Tiff wanted a Walkman? Rae's dad seemed to really like his, and Tiffany was a music person. How much did a Walkman even cost? She imagined she'd probably have to get a used one from the pawn shop a block over. That or sell one of her kidneys on the black market. Though, she was very attached to her body parts. Rae felt like a boob, laughing at her own silly joke.

The rain continued to fall, even in the darkness of the night. Rae could see the neon sign of the restaurant across the street, glowing brightly as always. The Thai place had been surprisingly quiet all day. The sweet old lady who owned it was ill, according to her son. Rae had been saddened by that and had sent her well-wishes, but hadn't seen either member of the two-person family since that morning. Usually the son would've been outside cleaning off the windows or knocking spider webs form under the front awning. Wow, his mom must've really been sick. The thought made Rae's stomach turn. She really hoped it wasn't serious. The family had been incredibly kind to her ever since she'd moved in and become a regular patron of theirs.

A repetitive thudding noise made her roll her eyes. The woman next door let out a series of sharp moans. Seriously, were her neighbors back at it again? Rae turned the television up in response. The banging grew slower and less rhythmic as time went on. Come on, guys! Give me a break, she thought grumpily. The movie in front of her cut to a couple. The man had been bitten at the beginning of the film and was starting to turn. Stupidly, the woman clung to him and pleaded for him not to give in. Like that was going to change anything. The actress on the screen caressed the man's face, getting dangerously close to his mouth. Even with the dated effects and odd acting, the scene was gut-wrenching.

"Don't do it," Rae admonished softly, though she knew how it'd end. She'd seen the movie play out many times. "There's no saving him." People with bites _always_ became zombies in the end. It was frustrating for Rae because they never said anything, never told anybody. And even in the off chance that everyone was aware of the bite, nobody ever did anything. It was mind-boggling! She'd rather be put down as a human than turn and kill her loved ones.

The woman declared her love for the man and pulled him close, just in time for him to tear into her throat. She held him, even as she lay dying in his arms. Rae watched carefully as the man came to realize what he'd done. He let out a howl of horror as his love bled to death on the tile floor. Even in black in white, the scene was gory. The infected man threw back his head and…

A bloodcurdling scream echoed around the apartment building. It tapered off, as though silenced. Rae, startled, paused the movie and surged up from her place on the couch. Popcorn went everywhere as she knocked the bowl to the floor. That had come from her neighbor's room. A feeling of gnawing dread filled Rae's stomach as she walked over to their shared wall. She'd never heard the woman scream like that. Maybe sex really was that good and Rae was seriously missing out. _Or_ Rae's next door neighbors had just been brutally murdered and she was standing there being a boob and musing on their sex life. Rae couldn't hear any sound coming from their apartment. She pressed her ear to the wall, highly aware that she was being a bit creepy. Nothing.

Worried, Rae wrapped herself up in her red throw blanket—a last gift from her feeling of it was comforting as she made her way out her door and to the front entrance of her neighbor's shabby apartment. Others were poking their heads out of their own rooms, eager to see what was going on, but not concerned enough to check. Rae wished they'd just go back inside and stop making a spectacle of things. That was one of the things she missed about Huntsville: your neighbors were nosy, but at least they cared enough to check on you if something bad happened. The people of the city were cold at the best of times.

Rae knocked shyly on the door. "Hello. I heard a scream and wanted to make sure you're okay." She listened for a moment and could hear some quiet groaning and shuffling. So there was somebody in there? Why weren't they responding? Rae gulped and pounded on the door. "Hello! This is your next door neighbor! I just wanted to make sure everything is fine with you guys! Can somebody please answer?!" Silence.

"What's going on here?!" Dawes was making his way past the residents with a furious look on his face. "Them again? How many noise complaints are they going cause until they learn to be quiet!" Dawes pushed Rae's smaller figure aside and slammed his fist into the door so hard that it groaned. "Keep it down or I'll be charging you another inconvenience fee on your next billing cycle!"

"Mr. Dawes… I think something's wrong in there. What if they're in trouble?"

"What do you want me to do, girl? I'm certainly not going in there and the phones are down. Want to call the police? Go find a payphone and do it yourself!" Rae shrank away from the man as he pushed past her with little care. She wiped off her cheek, where some of his spit had hit her during his rage. On his way down the stairs, Dawes added, "Everybody get their asses back inside your own rooms or I'll charge you as well!"

Rae watched as her neighbors slowly made their way back inside of their own rooms. Their doors all squealed shut until she was the only one left. Not even Miss Vasquez had come out to check on the sound. Was nobody else even remotely concerned about that scream? Or was she still not well versed in city life and this was pretty standard? She pressed her ear to the door and heard the groaning even closer now. She jolted back in surprise when a loud thud sounded and the door shook it its frame. Warily, she eyed the wood as it once again shifted. Was somebody throwing their weight against it? Maybe they were trapped inside?

"Um… Hey. Are you trapped in there? Do you need help?" A low, gritty moan answered her. Why weren't they speaking to her? What if somebody had a stroke and they weren't able to speak? She didn't know her neighbors well enough to say for sure that it was something health-wise, but them not answering was pretty concerning. "I'm going to call the police, okay? Just sit tight!"

Rae bolted back into her apartment. She shuffled out of her matching PJs and threw on a long sleeved shirt and some thick winter leggings. On her way outside, she grappled with her lace-up combat boots. They were a chore to get on, but were the only waterproof shoes she had. She did not want a repeat of the other day, when she'd had to leave her shoes over the radiator to dry them. Roll of quarters in her hand and SSU lanyard securely around her neck, she tore out of her apartment building and down the street. In her hurry, Rae was only half aware of just how vacant the streets were. It was a little past ten o'clock. Usually people would be crowding them right up until midnight, when the shops started to close. In fact, Rae was creeped out by just how quiet everything was. Most of the shops seemed closed already, and the ones that weren't were mostly empty. The city was shutting down early tonight, apparently. She wondered if it had anything to do with the riots or if it was the awful weather.

She entered the nearest phone booth, which was miraculously empty. Fumbling with the rolled coins in her hand, she pulled a few out and set them on the counter next to her, just in case. The blue paint on the buttons had long since been worn off by the pressing of countless fingers. Emergency numbers were listed underneath the phone's receiver. Murphysboro Emergency Dispatch… She dialed the number provided and waited as the phone connected. A homeless man limped past the phone booth, groaning in pain as he went. Rae's lips quirked down in pity. Poor guy; it had to be awful living on the streets, especially with how wet and cold it'd been the past few days. The line began beeped at her repeatedly. Busy? Why was the line busy? She popped in a few more quarters after waiting and dialed again: busy. She tried a third time. The beeping continued. What was going on? This was an emergency! She needed help!

Rae hung up and found herself pressing her forehead against the cool metal of the phone case, paying no mind to the fact that it was probably absolutely filthy. She knew for a fact that they only got cleaned once a month at the most. Still, it was soothing on the stress headache that she'd been getting. Having been the only child of an overprotective cop—and a mother who'd passed young—Rae had been fairly sheltered growing up. When she'd received her diploma, she'd decided to jump into college life with both feet without testing the waters. Moving out, getting a job, going to school had all been a challenge. Even with her movie collection and fuzzy socks the city had never quite felt like the home that Huntsville was. She was stressed. She probably had been for a while and it just took her neighbors suffering an emergency to push her over the edge.

The phone rang once more before giving her the busy dial tone. She huffed. Well, then she'd just have to try again. The young woman reached over to where she'd left a pile of quarters, only to find that she'd used the last. Darn. She blew on her cold hands and tried wrestle more out of the bank roll when something smashed into the glass behind her.

Whirling around, half expecting to find the impatient man from two days ago, she prepared a barbed insult. Instead, she let out a strangled gasp. A man's face, minus a nose and one eye, was pressed against the glass. His blood hand slapped repeatedly against the shell as he groaned in displeasure. His single eye was milky, glazed over and unseeing. Rae shrank back into the booth and ducked under the phone rig in a vain attempt to hide. What the hell was going on?! The man continued slapping his hand against the reinforced glass ineffectively before seemingly giving up and slumping away. What. The. HELL?! Rae crawled on her hands and knees, uncaring of the filthy floor. She wiped the fog off of the glass just in time to see the man reach another person and sink his teeth into their arm. The other man screamed and Rae had to resist releasing one of her own.

Other shambling shapes came out of the shadows and fell on top of the helpless man. The pile writhed until the screaming died down and there was complete silence. Were they… eating him? She felt bile rise in her throat. Oh, God! For a long moment, she wrestled with her disbelief, there on the dirty floor of a public phone booth. They were zombies, right? Like in that stupid cheesy move that she'd just been watching? She tried to even out her breathing. Heart hammering in her throat, she peered out of the clear section of glass. The pile was beginning to disperse. How long had this been going on? In horror she realized that _this _was what the upheaval was… people were turning into zombies. Suddenly Miss Vasquez's face eating story didn't seem like such a crazy rumor. The drunk that she'd seen the other day must've been recently turned. Oh, God. It'd been spreading over the entire city! That was why the phone lines for the police station were busy!

Rae shook, leaning against the wall of the phone booth. She wouldn't be safe if she stayed there. The booth wouldn't be able to protect her from a serious zombie, let alone if they became a horde. In fact, she wouldn't be safe anywhere in the city. Not with such a large population. A car wouldn't be able to get through town if they were crowding the streets, not that she had one. Going on foot would not only be dangerous because of the zombies, but it was only a matter of time before the infected areas were placed under quarantine and locked down. The military would be dispatched for sure to control the situation. Nobody was getting out of the city. Maybe she should head to the police station like her dad suggested? She hugged her knees to her chest. It didn't matter if she had a game plan if she was going to be stuck in a phone booth for the rest of her days. First, she needed to get back to her apartment.

Cautiously, Rae crept over to her vantage point again. The man who'd been attacked had gotten up and was now roaming aimlessly with what appeared to be his intestines hanging out. Definitely undead. She almost threw up in her mouth. There were more of them, now. It was probably luck on her side that she hadn't run into any on her way over to the phone booth. She thanked whoever was listening for that stroke of fortune. The zombies seemed slow-moving; well, duh, they were corpses. Maybe she could make a break for it? No, if they cornered her it'd be all over. Slow or not, it'd be the end of her if their numbers continued to grow and she got trapped. She'd seen that happen in enough movies to know. She watched one of them trip over a trash can that'd been upturned during the commotion. At least they weren't very coordinated. Wait… Maybe they were blind? The earlier undead's eye had been glazed over and he didn't seem to be aware of her presence. After all, wouldn't he have tried to get into the booth earnestly if he'd seen her? If they were blind and relied on hearing to find prey, she might have a chance to sneak past.

Rae breathed in shakily. But she was still gambling with her life if she decided to leave the booth. Hell, either way she was gambling with it. It was either try and fail or do nothing and fail. She _had_ to get back to her apartment first if she was to have any hope for survival—that much was certain. Gathering her courage, she stood up. "Let's do this", she whispered silently to herself. The phone booth door opened without a sound. She was grateful that it didn't give her away and she mentally thanked whichever city worker had maintained it last for oiling the hinges. She tried not to think that said city worker was probably a member of the undead now. So far, so good. As calmly as possible she walked a few feet. The undead continued their wandering, not taking any notice of her presence.

One of them teetered closer to her, little by little. It still seemed unaware of her, at least. Sucking in a breath, Rae shuffled backwards. Her foot knocked into a beer bottle which clattered on the ground as it rolled away. The noise got an instant reaction. All of the undead let out a huff and turned in her direction. She bit back a scream of terror as the one closest to her let out an inhuman screech and lurched towards her. No. This is not how it ends! This isn't… The creature was less than yard away, baring its bloodstained teeth. Rae felt her heart stop. She was going to die here. Rae placed a hand over her mouth to quell the rising sobs. This was how she was going to die. She closed her eyes and prepared.

A woman down the road let out a horrified scream. Rae peered through tear-matted eyelashes. Time seemed to stop as the zombies groaned and turned in the other direction, moving off towards the sound of the woman. Only the one in front of her remained. This one was nearly intact, aside from the hideous bite wound that had taken his windpipe. His glassy eyes surveyed where she stood. His nostrils flared. Could he smell her? Blood gurgled out of his throat with each searching inhale. Seemingly satisfied, the zombie turned away and followed his brothers and sisters towards yet more carnage.

Rae had been right. They were blind and relied on other senses to find prey. But why hadn't he smelled her? He'd been close enough that she could feel the rancid air that he exhaled. Certainly she'd been close enough to be an enticing meal? She pulled at the fabric of her sweater and breathed in deeply. Maybe the scent of her detergent had covered up her natural human smell? Tears rolled down her cheeks. Either way, she was alive; that's what mattered in the end. Her hands shook from the heady combination of unadulterated terror and unrestrained relief. A part of her was disgusted at herself for feeling such a positive emotion from what was most likely that woman's death, but it was a very tiny part tucked away in the back of her mind. The larger part was grateful to the woman, because Rae was still alive and unbitten.

Droplets of rain began pouring down once again and Rae was happy because they'd go even further to disguise her scent. Rae armed herself with a loose pipe that she'd found on the ground. It wasn't a firearm, but it was quiet and wouldn't attract unwanted attention. The only problem was that she'd have to get close to use it, which didn't sit well with her.

If she wanted to survive, she'd have to use all her horror knowledge. The main roads would be wider, but they'd also be heavily populated with undead and people fleeing alike. She could hear the frantic honking of cars from the next street over. Parsons Avenue—if she recalled correctly—which was two lanes of traffic on either side and always packed bumper-to-bumper. Curiosity got the better of her and she poked her head out to survey the scene, being cautious enough to stick to the shadows of the alley. Most of the people seemed not to be aware of their situation and instead were frustrated with the standstill traffic. Car horns were honking in a vain effort to get somebody to move out of the way. Rae watched a woman leave her land-locked car, only to get grabbed by the ankles by a legless torso. Occasionally somebody ran past, screaming. The main streets would be mass chaos now, just like this one was. Back alleys, then, Rae decided.

The trip took twenty minutes longer than she would've liked. She walked quietly and at a sedate pace, hands wrapped firmly over the keys on her lanyard to keep them from jingling. Her body shook and trembled, while tears fell down her face. She couldn't feel them for the rain, but her eyes stung enough to tell her she was crying. The back alleys took her a strange roundabout way and spat her out somewhere a block away from her apartment building. She moved slowly, deftly avoiding litter and puddles that might give her position away. Her hand was so tense on the rusty pipe that it was beginning to cramp up. The few undead that she'd encountered had to be handled with caution. Her pipe was a last resort and probably wouldn't even kill one of them no matter how hard she swung. So she skirted around them as far as possible, in some cases pressing herself against the walls of buildings and letting them slowly move past. The trip left her tired and on edge.

Dark shadow of her apartment towering over her, she allowed herself a short rest. Wearily, she leaned up against the faded brickwork building and gathered her thoughts. Assuming that her sex fiend neighbors had turned, the place was most likely overrun. If the door had managed to hold and her neighbors were contained, then she needed to work on barricading everybody inside. But what if one of the others was also infected? She'd have to do a bite check as well. A panicked thought raced through her mind and she held out her left hand, eyeing the wound from Markus. If they did a bite check, then she'd be outed for sure. It wouldn't matter if she explained that it was from days ago and a totally uninfected tantrum-throwing child, she'd be booted. Rae needed to be smart about this. If she wasn't, the situation could rapidly spiral out of control. Or they wouldn't believe her at all. After all, who'd believe that the literal zombie apocalypse was at their front door without proof? Maybe she could show them the walking corpses in the apartment next to her; surely that'd be enough?

Rae's hand lingered uncertainly on the pushbar of the apartment's back door. Maybe she was overthinking all of this. The rational, unfeeling part of her brain was telling her to forget the others and grab what she needed to survive alone. No, Rae admonished herself, rule number one is 'never go off alone'. She needed other people if she was going to survive, just maybe a smaller more specialized group. Her original plan had been to head to the police station, where they were not only armed but well trained. A lump formed in her throat. Were they equipped with enough resources to handle such a large population? Surely they'd be the designated evacuation spot in an event like this? Or maybe that amount of people would bog them down? It was so difficult to think! The more she thought about it, the more she found her mind clouded by doubt. What should she do? She left the pipe on the ground outside.

Mind racing, she entered the building. The lobby looked much the same as she circled around to the front office. The front entrance showed no signs of forced entry, and she could barely hear Dawes' soap operas playing on his office television. She looked at the clock; surely it was time for him to have gone to bed by now? The excitement earlier must've thrown off his schedule. Shaking her head, she made her way upstairs. She quietly entered the second floor hallway and made it to her door without problems. A quick peek at her neighbor's door revealed that it was still closed. Thank goodness! The apartment building was old, so the doors were heavy solid wood. Hopefully, it would hold for a long while. Then she looked at the door that rested across from hers. If she did anything tonight, She'd have to check on Miss Vasquez.

Rae made sure to lock the door behind her and turn on all the lights in her apartment, checking it thoroughly just in case. She was _not_ getting snuck up on by some hidden evil. She'd seen it happen in enough movies, thank you very much! After two full sweeps of the one-room apartment and a few paranoid glances at the tiny bathroom, Rae was absolutely certain that she was the only one there. It was a comforting thought.

She knelt next to her rickety bed and pulled duffel bag and lockbox from underneath. The duffel bag she'd once joked, was large enough to fit a body. It'd be good to keep supplies with her, just in case. The lockbox was a little over a foot long and made of a durable material. She fiddled with the keys on her lanyard until she found the one labeled CRC. The lock turned easily with a satisfying 'click'. It'd been a gift from her father, three years ago when she'd gotten her license. He'd only been half-kidding when he told her to keep it with her in the car in case any boys tried to give her any unwanted attention. The machete inside was black carbon steel with a serrated edge at the first few inches and smooth blade the rest of the way. It was razor sharp too. She remembered nicking herself on it the first time she'd ever held it.

Pulling the gift out, she nestled it inside of its form-fitting leather sheath and strapping it to her upper thigh. She took a few experimental steps to test her new accessory. Her dad had done well since the blade was the perfect size and fit snugly against her leg without impeding her movements. It had to have been a chore, especially since she was built a bit smaller than average. She felt a rush of gratitude towards her father, then. Even almost an hour away he still found ways of keeping her safe. Being overprotective had paid off. She remembered her father's pleas to go to the police station and clenched her hands into tight fists. She swallowed thickly, tasting something metallic in the back of her throat. Maybe she should head there? It seemed like the best option. The Murphysboro station had a nigh impenetrable metal fence around it and was pretty spacious, if she was remembering correctly.

Neatly folding her mother's throw blanket and placing it in the duffel bag, Rae was otherwise at a loss for what to take with her. The police station wasn't too far away, so it wasn't like she needed to pack a lot. She decided on a lighter, a folding pocket knife, a small flashlight and batteries, and a water bottle. Was she missing anything? Her father has always told her to pack only what she needed in a survival situation, since too much weight would only slow her down. She frowned at the huge bag. It suddenly felt like overkill to take with her. She rooted around her lockbox until she found a large leather pouch that matched her machete's sheath. Boy, she'd cringed when she'd pulled it out on her birthday, wondering why her dad had opted to get her a fanny pack… But now she was beyond grateful. And she was also wondering if he was psychic and had predicted she'd need it.

Putting her essentials in the waist pouch and buckling it around her like a belt, she cast a glance at the rest of the contents of the lockbox. Sighing and resigning herself, she pulled everything out to take stock of it. Rae hadn't been thrilled with this particular gift. When she'd turned sixteen, she'd been hoping for something, well, different. Her own car maybe, so she wouldn't have to drive her dad's beat up Honda. In all honestly, she barely remembered what was in the box, despite her dad's pleas to take it with her when she moved to the big city. Rae pulled out firm leather gloves, which had the fingertips cut off. She curiously pressed the knuckles of the gloves, only to discover that it rolled beneath her fingers. Ball bearings in the knuckles? These gloves were made for riot suppression… or back alley brawls. Rolling her eyes at his—apparently, completely founded—paranoia, she pulled them on and buckled them snugly at the wrists. She found another pouch, designed to wrap around the thigh opposite her machete. There were two rows of pockets that looked like they were designed to hold gun clips or ammo. Heck, at least it's extra storage space, she supposed.

"Jeez, Dad," she hissed as she pulled out a pack of condoms. "Jerk!"

They went in the ammo pockets. At least she could drop them off with the police as 'supplies'. Some of the stuff was fairly useless or cumbersome. He'd packed vitamin pouches, weird lunch bars that'd expired early last year, a walking stick, a way-too-heavy retractable baton, and some lockpicks—which she had no clue how to use. It was almost like he'd been anticipating the apocalypse or something. Or he'd just expected her to go full commando and start surviving in the woods. She took water purification tablets with her, as well as the strike-anywhere matches. Lastly, she pulled out a left-handed gun harness, which strapped across her chest. If she _did_ manage to pick up a gun, it'd be sensible to have a way of carrying it, she concluded. Examining herself in the bathroom mirror she realized that she did, in fact, look full commando. Tiffany would've joked that she looked like Ripley from "Aliens" if she'd been there. God, she hoped her friends were somewhere safe.

"Wow, Dad, I sure am glad you do everything one hundred percent." Anything less and she'd have been just as ill-prepared as her neighbors probably were. Except for Mr. Castle at the end of the hall; he was a gun nut. Maybe he'd be willing to lend them a few weapons? She'd have to talk to him. It wasn't likely, but at least she had a goal now, besides running blindly to the police.

To finish the look, she rooted around in her drawers for her cream sleep sweater. It'd originally been her dad's, but between his dislike of wool and her cold nature it'd ended up in her hands. The thing was huge and hung off her petite frame. It stopped at her knees, so at the very least it would keep her covered up and warm. She was glad her dad was chubby or it wouldn't have even done that much. At the very worst, it could prove an obstacle in getting her weapon out, but she planned on not having to use it anyway. Besides, it was nice having a piece of him with her. She wrapped her arms around herself and breathed in the scent of the fabric. It was easy to imagine the smell of his aftershave clinging to the material, though it'd been washed numerous times since he'd last worn it. She missed him. She needed him. This would have to suffice for now.

She eyed the giant duffel. She really wanted to take her mom's blanket with her, even though the intelligent side of her brain was telling her to forget sentimentality. It was stupid and irrational, but she couldn't just leave it behind. It'd been her mother's last gift to her; it'd kill her inside to leave it. She knelt down by it in deep thought. The police station would probably be established as a relief center after this, so maybe she should bring supplies? Surely they'd need something with the amount of survivors making their way there? She packed away her dismal first aid kit and looked around the apartment for anything else. Her eyes settled on her cabinets. Food! Of course, she had plenty of canned goods! She emptied her cupboard of everything but perishables and snack foods. They would probably be aching for supplies and if she could bribe her way in with green beans, she was going to do it! With the duffel bag full, she picked it up, testing its weight. Heavy, but nothing she couldn't handle. The police station wasn't too far, even avoiding heavy traffic areas. She shook it lightly to make sure the cans wouldn't clang together and give her away. Thoroughly satisfied with her cargo, she left it by the front door. At the very least, if the thing proved too cumbersome she could drop it and remove Mom's blanket. Or she could fish out some cans and throw them to distract the zombies.

Rae pulled her long hair out of her face and into a messy ponytail. At least it would keep her vision clear and keep it from getting caught on anything. She'd once gotten her hair stuck in their chain-link fence and her mom had to cut it to get her out. It'd been an hour wait during the summer and she'd ended up with sunburn across her pale cheeks. Not wanting to relive the memory in post-apocalyptic nightmare land seemed perfectly reasonable. She took one last look in the mirror to psyche herself up. Once she left through that door, there was no illusion of safety. And once she left, she'd be fending entirely for herself.

When she looked in the mirror, she noted with a twinge of distant horror that she'd burst a blood vessel in her left eye. The sclera near the corner had started to turn an evil looking red. Oh, well. Her appearance didn't matter. She hoped, at the very least, that it wasn't overt enough to make people think she'd started turning into a zombie. She checked her home one last time to make sure she wasn't leaving anything important behind. The television was still on, paused at the moment the man killed his lover. Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned the picture off. There was no point watching it when she was living it. The thought of horror movies suddenly left a bad taste in her mouth.

It was time to brave the streets of Raccoon City, completely unsure if she'd even survive.

:.:

_To Be Continued…_

:.:

**A/N: **Again, this is the _final _version of this chapter! I'm done making edits to it. The few spelling errors that might remain have eluded me several times now, so I think it's only fair to let them live. I might consider doing a 100% overhaul after the story is complete, but I want to focus on getting the actual chapters out until then.


	2. Quench

Quench

**Rating:** M**  
Warnings: **Violence, Language, Drug/Alcohol References/Abuse, Mild/Explicit Sexual Content**  
Disclaimer:** All properties related to the Resident Evil/Biohazard series belong to Capcom. Any other products are the intellectual property of their respective owners.**  
A/N: **Second chapter. Final version! Let's keep rolling! Thank you xXxRena-MariexXx for the beta!

:.:

Rae's mother had never been a fan of horror. The woman had possessed a gentle heart that made the scares and gore just a little too much to handle. It was fitting, then, that her parents' first date had been at the old Hunstville drive-in during October. They'd been showing old monster flicks for weeks. Rae wondered how her father had managed to talk her mother into the car with him. Then again, she'd once heard that her father had been incredibly charming in his youth. The young man had probably expected her to jump into his arms for comfort. Instead, she'd tinkled in his passenger seat—the powerful combination of too much soda and jump scares had gotten to her. The whole situation was horribly embarrassing for both parties, but they'd somehow managed to turn that disaster into twelve years of marriage. Her father loved telling that story, while her mother was always more than a little horrified when it was brought up. Rae wondered what her mother would think of the fact that her daughter's life had turned into a horror movie. She honestly didn't know.

Rae hefted the heavy duffel bag onto her shoulder. Its contents, about twenty pounds of canned fruits and veggies, clacked together at the sudden motion. She did one last gear check. Her machete was still within easy reach, though she'd have to move aside her overly-large cream sweater first. The gun harness strapped to her upper body was completely unreachable, though. If she did happen to get a gun she'd have to rethink her outfit. It honestly wasn't practical, but she'd need the added warmth. Not to mention the feeling of safety and calm that it brought. She rubbed her sweaty palms on the wool to gather courage.

Outside of the relative safety of her small apartment was Hell on Earth, the literal zombie apocalypse. Rae wished that were a bad joke or a lie. This was the kind of garbage that happened in B movies, not real life. Maybe Rae would be better off staying inside and waiting for the whole thing to blow over. She could stay there, watch a feel good movie, and pretend that there weren't hordes of flesh-craving undead murdering literally thousands of people right outside of her window. Frustrated with her own fear, she gripped the handle of the front door of her apartment. Her thumb worried over the faded bronze, memorizing the dents and scratches one last time. She had to leave. Staying put would be suicide, especially because her next door neighbors had most assuredly been infected.

Cautiously, she poked her head out of her doorway and into the hallway of her floor. Everything was perfectly quiet. Then again, it had to be getting close to midnight now. Surely most people were asleep at this hour, even with the craziness that'd happened earlier. Even as late as it was, there was still one person that Rae knew would be awake: their floor's very own newsletter.

Miss V was one of Rae's favorite people to talk to. The woman had remained a stubborn constant in Rae's life, long enough for the college student to consider her a friend. When Rae'd moved in over a year before, prepared to go to college and get a job, the feisty Latina had helped Rae scour the papers for job openings. Miss Velasquez was in the know about pretty much everything thanks to an intimidatingly large network of friends, a seemingly larger extended family, and an almost religious obsession with watching the news. She'd update Rae on the latest gossip and give her advice when she needed it. Unlike Rae herself, the woman was in good with nearly all of the other tenants, having lived in the apartment complex since even before Dawes had bought it out. Subsequently, she was also the only one that talked back to Dawes. She was the one who'd given him the _fond_ nickname of Lord Gnome.

The college student knocked on Miss Vasquez's door quietly, hoping that it'd get her attention. Nina Vasquez was a pretty woman in her thirties. Her parents had immigrated to the US when she was ten in the hopes of getting her proper medical care. Miss Vasquez had some sort of serious chronic illness, though Rae had never pried. It wasn't any of her business, anyway. The Latina worked the late shift at a factory in the more industrialized area of Raccoon City. It was because of her work schedule that she slept odd hours and stayed up all night. Thankfully, Thursdays were one of her days off, so she shouldn't have been wandering around town with undead on the prowl.

The door opened and Rae squeaked in surprise when a horrible green face peered out through the crack. Swallowing her racing heart, Rae took a better look and was overcome both by shame and annoyance in large amounts. She was scared by an algae peel-off face mask. Seriously?! Well, nobody could certainly blame her for being jumpy. Cheeks blazing red, Rae waved nervously at the older woman.

"Evening, Miss Vasquez."

The older woman's cocoa eyes lit up in recognition. "Oh, yes! It is a good morning. Are you doing well, Rae? You seem shaken."

Rae shook her head and peered down the empty hallway. "Well, something happened. Can I come in?"

The woman's masked face disappeared and she could faintly hear the sounds of the chain lock being undone. The door opened and she stepped inside, careful not to bump her giant bag on the doorway. Miss Vasquez took note of this with a frown. She clicked her tongue in disapproval and tutted.

"You are packed heavily. I hope Lord Gnome hasn't asked you to move out suddenly? I can go rough him up, if so. That little man is rude. A Mosquito. _Moyote_."

Rae suppressed a giggle at the _cute_ pet name for Dawes. Lord Gnome was fitting. And a mosquito, indeed. It was nice, having some semblance of normalcy after the previous assault on her senses. Miss Vasquez had helped her move in and settle down, had introduced her to the Thai family across the street, and had shown her the location of a nearby video store so she could expand her collection. The woman was kindhearted and earnest. If there was anybody Rae wanted to save in the building, it was her. Most of her other neighbors were spiteful or strangers.

"Thank you for caring, Miss V. It's not Dawes; it's… well…" How could she put this in a way that didn't sound crazy? "You now those protests that have been going on for a bit now? The ones you've been keeping me up to date on? They've reached here."

"No", the older woman breathed in fear. "This is bad news." That was the understatement of the century.

"It's gotten nasty outside. Have you see it?"

"I went outside once this afternoon. I had to gather ingredients from the supermarket for dinner."

"Did anybody seem strange? Off?"

Miss Vasquez petted the arm of her bathrobe in thought. "There was a drunk man in the store. He was very aggressive and tried to attack the cashier. I stepped in to help, but the man turned on me. I believe he was escorted away by police. Why?"

So, she'd already seen a zombie firsthand. Rae rubbed her forehead in thought. Why couldn't something less crazy have happened so it'd be easier to explain. God, she felt like the character in every movie ever that was right, but nobody would believe. Because their story was always a bit batshit, you know, like the one about zombies being real and eating the people in apartment 2B.

"That man, the drunk, did he have a white film over his eyes? Any wounds?"

"I do not remember. He was arrested before I could get a good look. It was all too fast."

"I…I went out earlier to call somebody about that scream—you might not have been awake yet. Only when I went outside _people_ were in the streets. They were very aggressive too. I watched these… _people_ pile on top of this guy. They tore at him and bit him and it was so freaking crazy."

_"__¡Ay,_ _Dios mío!_ The man is okay, yes?"

"Well, he got up."

"Then this is good news?"

"His guts were hanging out. I think he was dead. He was a zombie, like in those scary movies."

Miss Vasquez's eyes took on a serious, steely look. "I am not one for jokes, but this one in particular is not funny."

"I'm not joking. I was trapped in a phone booth and a man missing half his face was beating on the glass. I. am. _Serious_." Rae pulled up the edge of her dad's sweatshirt to show off the machete. "I'm going to the police station right now. I think it's a safe place. At least, it should be safer than here. That's what the bag is for; I'm bringing supplies with me. Canned foods, first aid. I know it's crazy sounding, but it's true! I swear."

Miss Vasquez clenched her hands together and they shook. "I am sorry. It is difficult for me to believe."

Rae noticed then that the woman was clad in a fluffy pink bathrobe. Her hair was swept up in a towel. Rae'd caught the woman during what was supposed to be a comfortable time and dumped the end of the world on her lap. It wasn't surprising that she was having had hard time believing. Zombies didn't exist in real life. Dead people didn't walk. Riots, protest: those were something real. It was easy to push the random acts of violence off onto angry mobs, but zombies? Rae wouldn't have believed it unless she saw it with her own eyes. Wait…

"I can prove it!" Rae watched the woman's eyebrows shook up into her hairline. "My neighbors, the sex addicts… I think they turned. That's what the scream earlier was, if you heard it. I think he turned… um, well… during the act. If I can show you a zombie, would you believe me? Would you help me warn the others?"

The Latina's dark eyes closed in deep thought. She rubbed a stressed hand across her face, stretching her caramel-colored skin taut. Her mask crinkled at the edges. Rae knew it was a long shot. It wasn't just that; it was more of a long shot made in zero visibility to hit a freaking pirouetting target. It'd be so easy for the woman to dismiss her and send her away. The moments passed, as long and uncomfortable as they were silent. The college student kept her lips firmly sealed, despite the gravity of the situation. Rae knew better than to push the woman; she could be incredibly stubborn when cornered.

"I will check on the noisy couple with you. But I will not believe you until I have seen proof. I know you watch those movies. I think maybe they have gone to your head."

Rae felt it was the best answer she'd ever get. She thanked whoever was watching out for her once again. No doubt lucky moments like these weren't going to last. That terrible, squirming feeling in her gut told her that luck wasn't going to be on her side through this. Rae tugged the end of her ponytail to release some of the nervous tension. If she and Miss Vasquez could get the people out of the building safely and raid Mr. Castle's supplies, they could evacuate to the police station. Then again, getting Mr. Castle to give up his guns—even during the end of the world as they knew it—might be impossible. He was a stubborn recluse, an ex-army fighter who'd served in Vietnam. He'd know how to use his arsenal and might try to hoard it, especially in a life or death situation.

"I'm glad you're on my side with this, Miss V. Let's go—" A terrible crunching sound came from the hall, followed by a thud that shook the walls of the building. That had sounded like a door being forced open, Rae realized with horror. Had they freed themselves?! "Oh, God. I think they just got loose."

Miss Vasquez motioned to go open the door but Rae grasped her arm tightly. She shook her head in a frantic motion. Heavy, thudding footsteps wandered down the hallway towards the stairwell. Hand clenched tightly around the handle of her machete, Rae shrugged off the heavy duffel bag. She popped the button on the sheath to release the weapon and advanced quietly towards the door of the apartment. Remain quiet, she signaled to Miss V with a finger to her lips. The wooden door opened slowly so the girl could peak her head out. Sure enough, her neighbor's door had been flung open. The door around the knob had broken to pieces. It was completely splintered. The zombie must've been beating on that door since turning. No wonder it'd gone to pieces. The doors were solid, but a fully grown man throwing himself against them over and over again would bust them down eventually. There was a horrible red patch on the door, just eye level with a taller person. Had he been beating on it with his head?

A trail of blood droplets made their way down the hall and a crimson smear marred the stairwell access door at the end of the hall. At least he wasn't on their floor anymore. They only had to worry about him if he'd gone downstairs. He'd be in the way, if so. Rae's unsure hand shook around her machete. She honestly didn't know if she'd be able to kill him. Well, she guessed he was already dead… But she had trouble imagining raising the blade and using it to cut somebody down. It made her stomach turn. She wasn't cut out to be the action hero type, who could just pick up a weapon and go ham on her enemies with no hard feelings. That zombie had once been her neighbor—albeit a super annoying one.

Rae's focus returned to the open door when she heard a disgusting squelching noise. Alarmed, she sucked in a breath. Movement shifted in the darkness of the doorway. Then, little by little, another corpse shuffled out into the lit hallway. The woman was naked. She'd once been a stunning blonde with wonderful tan skin. Rae remembered seeing her in the hallway a few times before, though she'd never gotten a close look. Now, the ends of her long hair were matter with dried blood and her skin was grey. Dark blood dripped down her bare body from an opening on her slender neck. Her head was barely attached to her body, as it seemed to flop and roll with every weighty step. This was Rae's first time seeing a zombie honestly, lit and on display. Blood roared in her ears and the age-old instinct of 'fight or flight' urged her to turn around and run away, despite how bad of an idea that actually was. Legs trembling, she took a careful step back and collided with a fluffy pink bathrobe. She sucked in a breath of shock.

Miss Vasquez had followed Rae into the hallway and was clinging to the smaller girl's back as she took in the sight before her. Rae looked over her shoulder, into the Latina's terrified eyes. Again, she urged the other woman to remain quiet with a finger to her lips. The older woman's mouth hung open in quiet horror but she seemed to take Rae's advice. That or she was just too scared to speak. Either way, Rae'd take it. They couldn't afford to make a sound, not when the female zombie was sniffing for prey less than ten feet away.

Rae's and Miss Vasquez's apartments were at the end of the hallway next to the stairwell. Six other apartments rested on this floor. Mr. Castle's apartment was at the end of the way, right next to the elevator. Unfortunately, the zombified woman was between them and any weapon other than a really, really big knife. If they could get past her without alerting her, they'd still have to negotiate with the elderly veteran to get firearms, and it wasn't particularly likely that they'd succeed. Maybe they should just cut their losses and go down the stairs? Then they might run into the other half of the zombie duo in an enclosed space without protection. Not to mention what may be waiting for them outside. Rae wasn't sure how far the infection would've even progressed, but their numbers would only continue to increase as they bit more and more people.

Rae's grip on her machete tightened. She could also try decapitating the zombies. Even if it didn't kill them outright, it'd make them unable to bite. They'd be much more manageable at that stage. The woman's head wasn't connected by much, either; her husband had taken a chunk out of her throat. If Rae wanted to try fighting, this would be a good chance to do so. Sucking in a deep breath, Rae clamped her other hand down at the hilt. She'd need her full strength if she wanted a clean cut. She had to do it in one swipe, otherwise she'd get too close and open herself up to being bitten. It was just like swinging a baseball bat, she lied to herself. You can do it, she fibbed.

Could she? Really? She'd refused to go hunting with her dad as a child because she didn't want to hurt animals. There'd even been a point in her early teens when she'd forgone meat after watching a documentary about animal cruelty. Would she be able to swing the weapon in her hands and take off somebody's head? She'd have to cut through skin and muscle and bone. She gagged. If the thought alone almost brought her to her knees, dry heaving, surely actually doing it would be a million times worse. She'd never be able to live with herself. The memory of decapitating her neighbor would weigh on her for the rest of her life, short as it may be. Then again, wouldn't she be putting the other woman out of her misery? If Rae was a zombie who could kill her loved ones without a second thought, she'd want somebody to stop her form hurting others. Oh, god. What if the woman was aware what was happening right now but unable to stop it?

The zombie lurched forwards and ran into the wall, groaning as she slid down it. Rae could only hope that there was nothing human left in that husk. Behind her, Miss V was clenching her cream sweater at the shoulders. Rae could feel the woman's perfectly manicured nails digging into her a bit. Right. Rae had somebody to protect. They needed to get out of the building. Hands shaking, she made up her mind. The zombie had to go. By any means necessary.

Suddenly, the apartment next to Miss Vasquez's opened up. Rae had never interacted one-on-one with the tenant in that apartment, but she knew the woman was a bartender at a club in Rhodes. She was loud and judgmental, often criticizing the other members of their shared apartments for things they did, ways they behaved. While it was safe to say Rae had never liked the woman, she'd never have wished for this to happen to her. It was clear she'd come out to investigate the noise. She'd most likely just been comfortably asleep in her bed and had been awoken by the door cracking and the female zombie thumping against the wall next to her home.

The sound of the door slamming open prompted the zombie to scream in rage and lunge at the other tenant. The woman cried out in pain and terror as her arm was bitten into, right down to the bone most likely. Rae took that as their opportunity to flee. She turned and shoved her friend back into the apartment. Grabbing up her bag, she quietly motioned for Miss V to follow her. It felt cold to leave the woman to suffer, but she'd already been bitten; there was no saving her. Rae had already made up her mind and, neighbor in tow, she walked quickly to the stairwell. The possibility of getting guns wasn't worth getting near an enraged infected. A quick glance backwards revealed that the zombie was busy wrestling with her prey. The others on the floor had also come out to witness the chaos. Somebody screamed in terror. Soon the whole building would erupt into chaos. Rae could only hope that the noise wouldn't attract any new zombies from outside.

A quick glance into the stairwell revealed that the zombie's male counterpart had gone downstairs. A blood smear decorated the walls downwards every so often. Crap. It was possible that he'd heard the noise and come back up, blocking their escape. Double crap! Rae opened the door and walked inside, machete ready to strike out. Miss Vasquez was following her, holding in quiet sobs and incoherent mutterings. Half of the words the woman was speaking, Rae was certain, were Spanish rather than English. The college student pulled her into a short hug. It wasn't much, but it was the most comfort that she could offer for now. They'd break down and cry when they were safely away from the chaos behind them. Hell, they could go comatose once they reached the police station if they needed to.

She pulled the older woman along, grasping her hand like a lifeline. It was her mission to get her to safety, no matter what. They never encountered the male zombie on the stairs, despite the blood stains on the wall signaling they were following his path. It was both relieving and terrifying. There was fear that accompanied not knowing. He could be lurking just right around the corner, waiting to pounce on any unsuspecting prey. The thought itself gave her goosebumps. If he managed to surprise them, he wouldn't even have difficulty ruining their chances of escape. All it would take was one bite. One bite and they'd be as good as dead, even if they managed to lose him. So, anticipating an attack from anywhere, Rae was on high alert. The sounds of terror and panic had followed them down the stairwell. It'd only be a matter of time before they started making their way past the zombies, downstairs. She slowly opened the door to the first floor access.

Miss Vasquez's sobs were beginning to quiet. Rae turned back to look at her. The woman's hair had fallen from her towel and it'd been left behind somewhere in the stairwell. The dark strands were still wet and clung to her exposed face and neck. Her mask had begun to chip away, revealing tan skin beneath. She looked the worst Rae had ever seen her, with her wild eyes and disheveled appearance. Normally, the Latina was a rock. It was foreign to see.

They walked out into the lobby with breath held and bodies tense. The lights were off, giving the whole room an eerie feeling. Creepy, Rae thought. It was so stereotypical for rooms to be dark during scary movies; it gave the scene a sense of claustrophobia and fear. You couldn't see beyond the dark. It suddenly made Rae wish that she'd found herself in a romantic comedy instead. At least her neighbors wouldn't be eating each other upstairs. Re didn't think she'd ever seen the room dark, though she knew Dawes had a strict lights out policy after midnight. He said it kept the riffraff away.

Speaking of Dawes, the television in his office was still loudly blaring, though the broadcast had ended and it was only static now. The only light coming from the office was the television's; the other lights had all been turned off. Odd. Rae frowned at her own observations. Yeah, there were zombies roaming the streets, but _this_ was _odd_. She rolled her eyes at herself. Dropping Miss Vasquez's hand for a moment, she reached under her sweater and into the pack at her back. She popped it open and fished around for her flashlight. Cursing herself for not being better organized, she rummaged until she got to the bottom of the leather pouch. The flashlight turned on, but the beam was dim. Maybe she should've tested it out before leaving her apartment, idiot. She was glad she'd brought spare batteries with her.

She wiped the snot and tears on the sleeve of her black undershirt and swept the beam around the darkened room. There was no zombie loitering in the shadows, waiting to make a meal of them. Hopefully he'd gone into one of the public restrooms. It'd be much easier to avoid him if so. The doors were one-way, requiring to be pulled from the inside. If he had wandered into one by mistake, he wouldn't be able to get back out again since zombies seemed to be incapable of working doors. A part of her wanted to check in the bathrooms to confirm her theory, but she decided against it. Curiosity killed the teenager, after all. God, she was beginning to make jokes. This was probably going to warp her.

Rae walked a few feet away from her neighbor, checking all the nooks and crannies of the entryway. She was thankful that the first floor of her building wasn't more apartments to navigate. The lobby was spacious and took up three-quarters of the floor, with the other quarter being dedicated to Dawes's office and living area, a small laundry room, and public restrooms. Dawes locked the laundry room and office after ten, so there shouldn't be any surprises reaching out to grab them from there. Rae looked up at the clock—12:13. It'd taken her a while to pack.

"Miss Vasquez." The woman jumped when Rae's quiet voice broke through her delirium. "We need to pass the laundry and exit out the back door. I'm going to go first, but I need you to watch our back, okay? Let me know if something tries to sneak up on us."

The woman had grown more and more pale since they'd left her apartment. Her normally composed demeanor was completely shot. Despite looking Rae straight in her eyes, it was almost like she couldn't see. They were glazed over with fear and grief, clouded with tears. This was bad. She needed to snap out of it and be on high alert if they wanted to make it through the streets. Rae placed comforting hands on the woman's shoulders, hoping to lend her some strength. It wasn't much, but the gesture seemed to shake her out of the stupor.

"I do not know how you can be so calm." Honestly, Rae wasn't sure either. She hadn't broken down yet, but she was almost certain that it was due to the years of horror movie experience… That, or the ninety pounds of adrenaline that was pounding through her veins at a million miles an hour. This is more than I wanted. Like a bad dream I cannot wake up from."

"I understand. This is scary. Like, super scary. But we have to keep our heads or we're both dead." Rae looked into the woman's misty eyes. "Can I rely on you to watch my back? We have to get to the police station."

"What if the station is overrun as well?"

Rae's throat tightened. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind. She'd only been thinking about the reinforced metal fence and possible aid. She didn't want to think about that scenario. There'd be nothing left to do if they couldn't get somewhere safe. They'd be sitting ducks. Even if they could remain quiet and avoid most of the zombies, the streets were infested and they'd eventually have to fight. She was at a loss.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it." Her voice was surprisingly steady for how much her body shook. "Let's just focus on here and now."

The older woman made to gather herself before turning towards a potted plant and heaving up the contents of her stomach. Rae turned her head away to give her some privacy. It was hard to accept, she knew. More than once now she'd had to clench her jaw tightly for fear of losing her dinner. The woman wiped her mouth with her pink bathrobe and straightened up. She seemed a little more sturdy now, though Rae could still see her hand trembling.

"We should check on Dawes, yes? Warn him so that he may flee as well?"

Rae nodded and set her bag down on the white tile floor. Dawes was a jerk, but he didn't deserve to be eaten. She swept the beam of her flashlight over the room once more and peeked behind the front desk, just in case. The office entrance was behind the solid wood reception desk. If she remembered correctly, the office was attached to his living quarters with another door. She looked over to where Miss V had set up, backed up into a corner and holding a decorative vase to defend herself with. Rae nodded at the older woman and peered into the office through the door's glass window. The lighting inside was dim from the static of the television. She couldn't quite make anything out.

She placed a hand on the knob only to freeze. Not only was the door unlocked, but it was cracked open. Had he forgotten to lock it back after the commotion earlier? She illuminated the door with her flashlight and sucked in a breath. Blood. She'd found where the zombie had gone. It'd probably wandered into the office, attracted by the sound of the television buzzing. She shined her flashlight through the office window. There was a sturdy looking desk in there, as well as a cushioned chair, filing cabinet, and television. The chair was completely askew, like it'd been flung. The overhead light was busted out somehow. Rae's light panned over the back wall, where an ominous spattering of red had painted it. More blood, she guessed.

The light roamed until she found two legs sticking out from behind the dark oak desk. Dark grey slacks, like Dawes favored. She sighed and rubbed her eyes, suddenly feeling heavy. Silently, she wondered when her breaking point would be. Sure, she'd teared up a few times and had a bit of a meltdown in the phone booth, but when would the flood gates open? She was due for a breakdown right about now, maybe two.

Movement caught her eye. The legs twitched and jerked. Had he started reanimating? She watched in fascinated horror as a brown-haired man stood from behind the desk. Her neighbor was covered head-to-toe in blood and other fluids Rae didn't even want to think about. He'd been eating. The thought made Rae's stomach flip. She'd never eat meat again. Curiously enough, the zombie walked over to where her light was shining on the opposite wall. He exposed himself—Rae was shocked and horrified to discover that not only was he naked, but his hands were cuffed behind his back. What the hell? The zombie swayed in place for a moment, then lunged to bite the lit area on the wall. The creature face-planted into the plaster with a groan.

So they weren't totally blind? He seemed to react to the beam. She jerked the light over to the right of the zombie, only to find that he followed it with his head and walked towards it. He lunged again in a vain attempt to snap up the moving beam, stumbling over a tipped piece of furniture in the process. So they were light sensitive? At the very least he seemed to respond to rapid movement. She whipped the light around again, watching as the zombie followed it. It was like playing with a cat using a laser, only way more dangerous and far less cute.

Curiosity satisfied, she backed slowly away from the door. She clicked her light off for good measure so that he couldn't track it to her. So the zombies weren't completely blind. They relied on some measure of motion tracking and light detection as well. The zombie by the phone booth hadn't seen her, either because she'd been wearing all black at the time or because she'd been paralyzed with fear. It made sense. Still, she felt like she was grasping at straws. Sure, she had knowledge from countless horror movies, but there was no telling what was fact and what was fiction. They didn't seem to possess inhuman strength, speed, or perception. In fact, they were slow and seemingly thoughtless. It was like they were running totally on instinct. She still didn't know enough about them to comfortably fight them. Would a headshot or decapitation even take them down, like it did in films? Rae wasn't so sure.

She walked back over to Miss Vasquez and picked up her bag. They had to leave before the others came crashing downstairs and alerted the zombie of their presence. "Dawes is dead", she murmured quietly. "We need to leave now, before it's too late."

Miss V said a quick prayer under her breath and followed Rae's lead, still clutching onto her vase. The muffled sounds of panic from above had only grown in volume. The pattering of footsteps above them was loud, as were the cries of distress. That noise would haunt her nightmares. She wondered if anybody would even chance trying to get past the zombie to make a break for the stairwell. It was possible that some people had managed to shut themselves inside their apartments to hide away. How had the people on the upper floors had responded to the commotion on the second? It didn't matter. They had to escape. Rae grabbed her neighbor's hand and pulled her towards the back door. They needed to leave before an infected person saw them. They couldn't afford to have a ticking time bomb walking around with them.

It'd stopped raining sometime after she'd returned to the building, Rae realized. Only puddles remained. The alleyway was clear of undead. Inside the apartment building, Rae could hear a few people yelling and hammering on something. Were they trying to get Dawes's attention? They wouldn't like what they found. She certainly hadn't. Gulping, she dragged Miss Vasquez down the alley and poked her head around the corner to look around.

"Wait, Rae! The others! I heard them speak just now. Should we not go back to get them?"

"We can't risk it. One of them might have been bitten."

"Bitten? Are bites bad?"

Rae didn't have time to answer her as she tugged the woman away from where a zombie was coming towards them. They weren't exactly as stealthy as she would've liked, nor were they as mobile. Miss Vasquez moved behind her at a crawl as opposed to the swift walk Rae wanted to keep. The older woman seemed genuinely exhausted with everything that'd happened. She was still shell-shocked from seeing a woman sink her teeth into her next door neighbor. Which was understandable. Rae had been in a similar state after watching the man get mauled in the phone booth.

Still, Rae tried to coax her to walk faster. Occasionally the woman would stop off to the side and heave until nothing was left in her stomach. The walk to the police station wasn't a long one, but it required a few twists and turns. They had to avoid only a few undead, though it wasn't terrible. The corpses shuffled past without as much as a sideways glance at them, making it easy to slip away. They'd gotten a little over halfway there when Miss Vasquez suddenly dropped her vase. The heavy ceramic shattered on the ground loudly. Rae looked back in a panic as a few shrill cries echoed around them. They needed to move!

She pulled them down a nearby alleyway and broke into a light jog, praying the older woman would keep pace. The cries of zombies came from behind them, but Rae didn't look back. They found themselves in a sort of courtyard. If she remembered correctly, they were behind the old warehouse-turned-pawnshop. It was crazy to think that only a few hours ago she'd been considering buying a Walkman from there. You know, instead of running for her life. The courtyard on one side was a sturdy wooden gate. On the other side, there was a ridiculously tall chain-link fence. Rae rolled the wooden gate closed and latched it, hoping the undead would run past rather than stop to investigate.

She heard one of the clumsy monsters trip over a pile of trash. It most likely wouldn't be safe to head back that way. That was fine. She could plan accordingly. Rae'd gotten well-acquainted with the back alleys of Raccoon City. They were her preferred method of travel on her commute to work at the orphanage. The main roads tended to get too crowded and noisy. Miss Vasquez had once expressed fear at the young woman wandering the streets alone, but Rae had assured her that nothing was going to happen in the same neighborhood as the police station. She was glad that she took this route because it'd given her the knowledge required to avoid the main roads. The courtyard was one of the places that Rae had wandered once. She knew that the other side of the chain link fence was an alley that could take them straight to Parsons Avenue. From there, they could cut through another alley towards Cliff Street, which would spit them out right in front of the police station.

Doing a once-over of the courtyard with her flashlight and thoroughly satisfied that they were alone, she sheathed her machete. She knelt by Miss Vasquez to check on her. The woman had taken a seat on a pile of… something. Rae couldn't tell what it was in the darkness of the night. No doubt her bath robe would be filthy after this. Rae hoped that there'd be some more practical clothing at the police station for her to change into. Miss V was looking at her hands with something akin to betrayal.

"I… I am very sorry, Rae. My hands, they won't stop the shakes." Her hands were twitching wildly. In fact, her whole body was wracked with tremors. It looked like the woman was going into shock. "I… I do not feel good."

"I wouldn't expect you to, not after what we've seen tonight," Rae murmured sympathetically.

A pause. "I do not understand how you can feel so cold. Even now, you remain calm."

Rae shrugged. "I don't get it either. I should be freaking out, but… I don't know. I'm just dealing, I guess. Don't know any other way of putting it. I cried earlier, but now I'm calm."

Compartmentalization, her father had once called it: blocking up all emotion and putting it away in the back of your mind. He'd had to shoot a young man on patrol one night. The kid had been barely older than seventeen, but he'd been holding a gun, had pointed it at her dad. Rae'd watched as he turned inwards and became completely numb to everything. It was strange, seeing her normally jovial father so lifeless. The life had returned to his eyes after a while, but it'd taken such a long time. Rae was thankful for the numbness. It gave her clarity that grief or fear would only drive away.

"You are level-headed. It is what I wish I was. But I tremble."

Rae looked into the woman's eyes, which were clouded. Visibility was low in the darkness of the night, but Rae could see that she was shaking like a leaf in the wind. "We'll be fine. We just have to get past this."

The older woman shook her head in doubt. "I am tired, Rae. I cannot control my body. Even now, it rebels. Maybe we will get to the station, then what? What do we do if that place is not safe, either?"

"Then we find somewhere else."

"You make it sound easy."

Rae sighed. She understood where Miss V was coming from. The woman was clearly in shock. The Latina cradled her head and let out a low cry. It was scary, watching such a strong person break down in front of her. Rae pulled the woman into a reassuring hug. She kissed the woman's crown, coarse black hair tickling her nose. "I'm sorry", she whispered.

They would need to wait until Miss Vasquez was fit to climb the chain-link fence before progressing. For now, the woman needed to rest. Rae, unable to sit still for fear of growing complacent, did another few circuits around the courtyard. It was clearly being used as temporary storage if the tarp-covered piles were any indicator. She dug into the crates and piles, hoping for something useful to add to their collection. At the very least, her neighbor needed something to defend herself with. Preferably not something breakable this time.

In the distance, Rae could hear the sounds of disarray. Car alarms, horns honking, screaming. She swore at one point in time that she'd even heard a far-off explosion. She clenched her hands into fists. Wasn't that _lovely_? The sound of nearby retching made her look at her neighbor with muted pity. If only there was something she could do to calm her. Unfortunately, Rae wasn't particularly good with reassurances. She'd done all she knew how and it still hadn't helped any. The woman had been sitting on her pile, sobbing.

Rae eventually dug an old golf club out of a barrel. It was clearly trash; the rubber grip was falling to pieces and the shaft was rusted beyond repair. Still it was long, solid, and would be able to at least stun the zombies if they were chased again. Rae gave it a quick swing, satisfied with the weight of it. She doubted Miss V could even bring herself to use it, but at least it would provide a tangible sense of comfort.

She was searching a crate of old wires when she heard it: gunshots. It wasn't a shot in the dark to assume that somebody had a gun and was shooting zombies in the post-apocalypse. That wasn't what'd grabbed her attention. The shots were rapidly fired in succession. An automatic from how close the gunshots were to one another. The police? Or maybe the military. At least somebody was doing something to combat the hordes. She could only imagine what the city proper looked like right now. Clements must've been a warzone.

Placing the club near Miss Vasquez, she did a once-over of the woman's condition. She'd stopped crying, but still shook. "I found you a weapon. You don't have to use it, but it'd give me peace of mind if you'd take it."

The older woman's hands wrapped loosely around the driving head. Well, at least she'd taken it. Miss Vasquez spoke, voice thick from crying. Her words slurred a bit. "W-was that the sound of guns?"

"Yeah. Heavily armed, too." More gunshots sounded, as though making her point.

"The military?"

"Possibly; they have machine guns. I'd place my money on the military if I had to guess." Rae shrugged noncommittally. "But I'm not sure."

The woman looked up, her normally-pretty face haggard from exhaustion. "Should we go there? Surely they could protect us?"

Rae's mind conjured up images from a movie she'd watched a long time ago. It was one from the Eighties, some stupid slasher. The lone survivor had been running through the woods, headed to a military base. She'd had a horde hot on her heels, waving to the military to come rescue her. They'd gunned everybody down, including the woman. It'd been a downer ending. She'd been angry for days at the way it happened. Twist endings that killed off the lone survivor were her biggest pet peeve. After thinking about it, though, she'd realized that it'd been somewhat realistic. It was hard to tell between an uninfected and an infected human. If a person had to shoot, they'd shoot them all, no questions asked.

"We should avoid them for now. It'd be easy to mistake us for zombies, especially if we just went running up to them." Besides, that was _assuming_ they were even friendly.

The older woman slumped over, shaking. Rae wondered if maybe her chronic illness was causing her pain. Did she manage it with medication and had forgotten to take it before leaving? That thought alarmed her a bit. She'd be separating a possibly sick person from their medication. Well, it was too late to turn back. Rae just hoped the police station would provide medical care.

Rae started grappling up the fence with her duffel bag. The thing was heavier now that she was getting tired. Its strap had probably left a nasty bruise on her shoulder where it'd been digging in. While she'd climbed a chain-link fence before, it'd never been with twenty pounds of dead weight attached to her shoulders. The going was slow and she had to be careful not to let her clothing or accessories get caught. Not only that, but the fence was taller than usual to prevent people from breaking into the courtyard. And it was slick from the rain. It took ten stamina-draining minutes. She lowered the bag down as gently as she could, using some crappy rope she'd found while searching the place. Once it was on the ground, she let out a sigh of relief and tossed the garbage rope down. It'd left her hands feeling tingly. That was one thing over the fence. Now, for her neighbor.

"Miss V", she called quietly, "if you're feeling well enough to travel we should get moving!"

The woman didn't answer. Rae frowned and began climbing down. That was odd. Had she gone into a catatonic state? Rae's father had once said that sometimes victims of shock shut down and stopped functioning. It wouldn't be too far-fetched to think the same had happened to her neighbor. The woman wasn't used to this much stimulation and fear, after all. Then again, neither was Rae but she had lived this scenario over a hundred times vicariously through movies.

She got about halfway down the fence before calling out again. "Miss V!"

Rae could barely see the pink bathrobe in the night. If only she could hold her flashlight and climb at the same time. She needed more hands. Then the bathrobe began moving slowly towards her. Still no sound. Rae's heart dropped. Please don't let _that_ have happened! The woman had helped her so much since she'd moved in. Rae'd once failed a math exam and Miss V had comforted her by calling her professor terrible things in Spanish. And she'd helped her study for the makeup test, but that wasn't quite as fun. If there was anybody in the building she wanted to keep safe, it was the sassy Latina across the hall who constantly gossiped and rebelled against their landlord. Rae's hands clenched around the metal of the fence.

She began quickly climbing back up, hoping to get up out of reach. The slippery wet metal of it was hard to grip. The frenzy of her movements shook the fence and rattled the links together sharply. Her former neighbor lunged towards the sound, hands gripping angrily onto the metal. The pink bathrobe was visible just beneath Rae as she struggled to get away. A hand grabbed her ankle and the college student felt her heart drop into her stomach. She tried tugging it free, but the grip around it was like iron. The zombie's head shot up as she howled. Miss Vasquez didn't even look like herself anymore, not with her face contorted like that.

Rae tried to pull herself higher, even as the zombie threatened to tug her off the fence. Her mind was racing along with her erratic heartbeat. What would she do?! She was caught like a rat! If she reached to grab her machete, she'd be sacrificing her grip on the fence. Not only that, but the way her sweater hung over the sheath, she doubted she could even reach it in such tight quarters. She suddenly regretted bringing the clothing article with her, comfort be damned! She did the only thing she could; she kicked. Her combat boots had been an impulse buy. They'd looked the same as a character's shoes from her favorite movie at the time and Rae just _had _to have them. The leather sole was tough and thick.

She struck the zombie on the face again and again. The monster's grip never wavered. They didn't feel pain. Not like a human did. Miss Vasquez's face was bloodied and broken, but she never let go. The pink bathrobe had fallen enough to let Rae get a good look at the stark white bandage around her arm. Shit! That 'drunk' at the supermarket had gotten the woman! Why hadn't she said anything! The obnoxious voice in the back of Rae's head admonished her for not checking for bites. _She _was the one who knew better, damnit!

"Get. The. Fuck. Off. Of. ME!" She punctuated each word with a harsh kick. Finally, the zombie swayed and fell under the fury of her attacks. The monster wearing her friend's face fell to the ground, releasing Rae's booted foot. The girl scrambled up the fence with speed she didn't know she possessed. At the top she sat, waiting. She was just out of reach if the zombie tried to advance again. It'd be stupid to try and climb back down with a flesh-eating undead just on the other side. She'd have to jump. The height of the fence made her gulp as she looked down. Her stomach rolled. The fall could certainly shatter her ankle if she landed wrong. She closed her eyes and held onto the metal beneath her for sheer life.

Her eyes snapped open when the metal gave a lurch again. The infected had gotten back up. Rae resisted the urge to look down, knowing very well that she'd made an awful mess of the once-pretty face. The thought made her sick.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry." She'd finally hit her breaking point. Her eyes stung but tears didn't come. She hiccupped, sobbed. It wasn't fair! None of this was right! She was supposed to save the woman… They were supposed to be safe. She wasn't supposed to be out in the middle of the night, running from zombies. She wasn't supposed to be worried about surviving. None of this was supposed to happen!

The fence wobbled harshly under the assault of the monster below, shaking and jostling Rae. She teetered off of the fence, losing her grip on the wet metal, and plummeted down the other side. The landing was rough. Her shoulder was crushed beneath her weight. She heard a crunch as it cushioned her fall and immediately felt a searing pain. Crying out in agony, she gripped the injured body part and rolled away from the fence—and the grabby hands that came through the links. It hurt. It hurt. It _hurt._ She'd never broken anything, or even really been seriously injured. Never had she felt this level of white-hot agony before.

Why was everything happening to her left side?! First, she'd gotten bit on the hand by a child. Then her eye started bleeding. Now, her dominant arm hung limp, completely unusable. Where had all her earlier luck gone?

Clutching her shoulder, she leaned against the brickwork building behind her. Her head flopped tiredly to look at the creature trying to paw at her. She was just out of reach, but the fence wouldn't hold forever. Rae needed to move soon. How had she missed the signs? Miss V had even said an infected had turned on her. She'd been tired, sick, trembling, slurring. Were those the signs of somebody about to change, or were they symptoms of shock and Miss V had changed spontaneously? How fast did somebody change? Miss V said that the incident happened in early afternoon, so it was no more than a few hours. Rae felt like an idiot. She felt sick. She felt tired.

The zombie continued to press its face against the chain links in an aggressive snarl, but Rae couldn't bring herself to move. She stared blankly at the creature, hand pressed against her burning shoulder. Would she be able to survive? Was she even equipped to even try. Sure, she'd seen some movies with zombies in them, but that didn't exactly turn her into a qualified badass. She had her machete and some gear, but she wasn't confident in using it. Would she hesitate if she had to kill something? Her father had once taught her some police subjugation holds, but she was too weak and small for them to be effective. Not to mention that she'd have to get close and risk getting bit.

Rae swallowed thickly and closed her eyes. The cool brickwork felt good against her shoulder, but she knew she couldn't stay there long. She'd have to move eventually. Would she even try to move? Why did she suddenly feel so helpless? She felt like a child again. For a moment, she was ten years old listening to a man tell her father that her mom wasn't coming home. For a moment, she was a ten year old girl sobbing and screaming and protesting at the unfairness of life. She'd eventually grown up and realized that life was unfair, that stuff didn't always go her way. It'd taken her two years, but she'd grown to realize that her dad needed her more than ever.

Dad. Charles Colter's face flashed before her eyes. He had kind blue eyes. His strong jaw and cheeks were hidden behind scruffy stubble that he was too busy to shave off. Lines from years of having a stressful job decorated his face, but he loved every moment of being a cop. He loved helping people. Despite his job, he only pretended to be strong. When they'd lost Mom, he'd been totally unable to function. He still wasn't the same. Rae realized something terrible. If her dad lost her too, what would he do? Tears burned in her eyes.

She honestly wasn't sure. She couldn't picture life without her dad or his meddling and worrying. And she couldn't picture her life without him. What would he do if he didn't have her anymore? He'd be alone in the world. He'd be sad without her. She stood up shakily. Her mind flashed back to the way he'd been after mom's car accident, how broken he was. She never wanted to cause him that misery, that grief. Rae bent down to pick up her heavy bag and placed it on her uninjured shoulder. Her eyes stung. Despite that, she had to keep moving. She had to get home alive, one way or another.

:.:

Rae had taken a few moments to compose herself before resuming her trek to the station. Her arm was hanging uselessly at her side and her shoulder was practically screaming in agony. She felt alone. Occasionally, she looked behind her, expecting that stupidly bright pink bathrobe to be following her. Well, for Miss Velasquez to be following her in it, anyway. Rae hoped somebody would put the older woman out of her misery soon. She felt terrible, leaving her alone in a courtyard behind an old building, but she couldn't exactly stick around.

She made her way down the alley, courtyard and chain link fence behind her. She'd caught a glimpse of Parsons during her first encounter with the zombies, so she half-expected it to still be mass chaos. It was eerily quiet. When she peered out of the shadows, she found a strange sight: the cars that'd once crowded the road had been pushed off onto the sides, making room for a vehicle to drive uninterrupted right down the center line. Had the military done this? She walked around and noticed bodies littered with bullet holed all over the sidewalks. They'd cleared the entire way down the street. She knelt down next to one of the corpses, machete in hand in case he decided to spring to life. The man's skin was still tan, not the off grey that the zombies were, and his green eyes weren't cloudy. She carefully turned his arms over, but there were no bites in sight. He probably hadn't been infected.

It was a good choice to avoid the main roads and military, then. She was glad they'd stayed away, though it hadn't made a difference for Miss Vasquez in the end. Her teeth gritted together. Stop, she admonished herself. It wouldn't do any good to think about that now. She stood and surveyed the road. They'd most likely moved the cars to allow for easy evacuation. A bus could easily fit in the space provided. Were they still planning a mass evacuation? Surely the situation was too out of control to allow for them to do that. There'd have to be full-body screenings, blood tests. If they didn't do medical examinations, the plague could spread beyond Raccoon City. A dark thought crossed her mind: what if it already had? Maybe the zombies hadn't originated from the city itself. A traveler from a distant land could've brought it with them. If so, things just got a lot worse for humanity. She shifted in place nervously. What would she do if that were he case? She and her dad could always run off and hide in the Arklay Mountains somewhere.

Hiking the duffel bag further up her shoulder, she hissed when she jostled her dislocated arm. It wasn't much farther now, surely. She resumed her journey towards the station. A few undead were milling around the alleyway she needed to take. Despite the fact that some of the main roads were clear now, she didn't want to risk running into trigger-happy soldiers by staying on them. It'd be easier to deal with the undead if she ran into them. At least she could outrun them. You can't outrun a speeding bullet. She maneuvered her way around the zombies, much more confident than she'd been before. They didn't even seem to notice her. She was invisible, which was fine. She was pretty well used to flying under people's radars.

A larger group was standing between her and Cliff Street—which was where the police station was. Rae frowned. They were packed far too tightly to comfortably walk around and she had no weapons to take them down. It made her wish she'd raided Mr. Castle's apartment before leaving. Then again, she probably would've gotten shot if she'd even tried. How was she going to get around?

She unzipped the duffel bag over her shoulder and rooted around in it. She pulled out a can. Creamed corn—ew. She turned it over in her hand before lobbing it at a far off brick wall. Despite the fact that her dominant arm was useless and she'd made the throw with her right, the can landed right where she'd aimed. It hit and skittered on the ground before rolling to a stop at the base of a metal garbage bin. The reaction from the small horde was immediate as they bared their teeth and began migrating towards the sound. She used the opportunity to walk around them as they angrily wandered near the can. At least they weren't very bright. That was the only bright side in all of the mess. They could've ended up with smart fast zombies instead of these ones. Hooray for small miracles.

Cliff Street hadn't been touched by the cleanup crew yet, but it was kept remarkably zombie-free. There were bright floodlights keeping the whole thing illuminated. No doubt the police were doing their best to keep survivors safe and visibility high. She wandered between the abandoned cars. Some were still running, music playing and lights lit up. One car in particular sported neon strips around the lights and wheel wells that flashed different colors. It would've been cool to see, had the car also not been covered in entrails. She pressed her sweater against her mouth in revulsion. Then she caught sight of her own reflection in the glass. She looked rough. Dirt covered her face and body from when she'd fallen off the fence. Her shoulder looked unnatural, even hidden beneath a thick sweater. But what was worse was the fact that the red spot on her left sclera had gotten even bigger. It was beginning to encroach upon her iris. It looked scary. She turned away, not wanting to see it anymore.

Despite the obvious signs of a struggle, there wasn't a single moving corpse. She stumbled across a few bodies with bullets in them, but they weren't moving, which she was grateful for. The cops were keeping the street clean. In front of her, a few survivors made their way into the wrought iron gates of the station. She wasn't surprised when there weren't a lot. The apocalypse had struck fast and hit hard. Surely the entire city had gone under by now. She shivered at the thought. Hopefully there were more survivors than this at the other precincts. Or that at least some people had managed to hold out in their houses. She was worried about Tiffany and Jake.

Jake was a doomsday prepper conspiracy theorist nutcase, so he should at least have some weaponry. She meant that with love, of course. Jake was a wonderful person who also happened to believe that Umbrella Corporation was building a death ray for the military. Apparently you 'don't earn that kind of money doing honest work'. And he'd also spent several thousand dollars reinforcing his house and turning it into a fortress. Suddenly, he didn't seem so eccentric. Tiffany, on the other hand, was renting out a house right in the heart of the city. The urban area with a higher population would've been hit the hardest. Rae hoped that she'd gone to visit her Nana in the next town over, as she did twice a week.

Rae sighed and followed the others, keeping her guard up in case anything happened. She wasn't safe until she was in the building. And even then, that was debatable. Would the police even know how to handle this situation? She wondered what they knew about it. It was unlikely that they'd been told, 'by the way, zombies are roaming the streets in search of human flesh so you guys should set up a relief center'. She would've loved to be a fly on that wall. If anything, they were probably aware only of what survivors were able to bring with them.

She looked up at the imposing structure and clenched her hands around her duffel's strap. The clock tower looked ominous in the dark of night. Apparently, the place had once been an art museum. It'd been named after the founder, Edward Murphy. He was also where they neighborhood had gotten its name—Murphysboro. Of course, these were all little factoids that she'd read about when looking for a neighborhood to call home. She'd never actually been inside of the building. Well, she'd probably be able to see every nook and cranny before this whole mess blew over. Eyes roving over the huge metal fence, she queued behind a rather chubby black man who was wearing some sort of maintenance uniform.

Rae took a deep breath and prepared herself for her next step. She wasn't sure if she should feel relief or anticipation. In fact, she felt almost numb. The day had sucked the life out of her. Miss Vasquez…Dawes…Tiff…Jay-Jay. Dad. She opened her eyes and stared firmly ahead. She'd survive this. She had to. In spite of everything, she felt hope.

:.:

_To Be Continued…_

:.:

**A/N:** What a way to end chapter 2! Hope you guys are still enjoying it! I've really liked writing this so I'm happy to be able to continue it.

**Anonymous Reviewers:  
**Guest: Thank you for saying you like my writing style! That's very sweet of you. I'm usually down with writing porn, but I actually haven't seen the movie before. I'll give it a watch, since you seem to really like it! I'm not making any promises, though, since I really only write about stuff I'm super passionate about. I'd feel like I couldn't quite do the characters justice if I were to just churn something out. You should find somebody already in that fandom and shoot them a quick PM. I'm sure you'll find some depraved soul willing to feed your addiction. There are some really talented writers here on FFnet.


	3. Heat

Heat

**Rating:** M**  
Warnings: **Violence, Language, Drug/Alcohol References/Abuse, Mild/Explicit Sexual Content**  
Disclaimer:** All properties related to the Resident Evil/Biohazard series belong to Capcom. Any other products are the intellectual property of their respective owners.**  
A/N: **Chapter 3 final version! Hooray! Special thanks to the lovely xXxRena-MariexXx who helped beta this. So this chapter has been rebuilt almost from the ground up. Give it a read, even if you already have previously, as it may have changed. Thank you to everybody who supported this story so far!

:.:

Rae was no stranger to the lifestyle of a police officer. Her father had been in the academy when he and her mother met, and had been a cop in all the time the college student had been alive. All of his friends were fellow officers and they often hosted barbeques in their backyard where they gossiped like teenage girls. She visited the office with her mother to bring lunches and drinks for them to share. The cops were nice and all knew her by name. She was the most popular little girl in the precinct. After all, most of them had worked with her father upwards of ten years by that point. They considered her family as well by that point. Rae missed her hometown and the pleasant, smiling faces of her father's friends.

Rae's eyes squinted shut at the bright lights around the police station. After navigating the backstreets and alleyways, her eyes had grown used to the dark. They stung. There were people milling about, both uniformed officers and civilians. She was standing in line behind a few other people, waiting to get checked out so they could enter. It was a relief that they'd shown some foresight and examined people for signs of the infection. Hopefully, that meant the officers were aware of the situation. There were two other lines, with the one next to her occupied by a few scared teens and a mother with a crying infant. Rae cast a sad sideways glance at the mother and child; it'd be terrible to have to make the run she'd just done, all while caring for a baby.

The area immediately in front of the station had been cordoned off with a few concrete barriers. The cars past the barricade, all down Staudt Road, were pushed off to the side. The military had been there. From her spot in line, Rae could see that part of Staudt Road was on fire. Everybody seemed to ignore the chaos as it blazed out of control, likely too concerned with the influx of injured people to worry about putting it out. Well, that was an apt metaphor of Raccoon City at the moment: On fire but nobody was able to put it out. It was probably also literal if the explosion she'd heard earlier was anything to go by.

Rae heard a loud gunshot and whirled around to look behind her, only to watch a corpse fall over dead beyond the barrier. She cast her gaze over the police station. A sniper? Then she looked over to where a few officers were collected at the huge front doors. A grizzled looking black man had his weapon drawn and sighted towards the barricade, the tip still smoking. If he'd made it just now with a handgun, that was a hell of a shot! Then again, these people were like her father, she reminded herself. Her dad had gone to the range almost daily to make sure his skills were polished. He'd been able to shoot the cap off a bottle at a good distance, if Aunt Martha's pool party had been any indicator of his prowess with a weapon.

Rae gripped her good hand around the strap of her oversized duffel bag. The other hand remained limply at her side. The fall she'd taken off of the courtyard fence had probably popped it out of place. At least, she prayed it wasn't broken. After the initial agony that'd followed landing on it, it'd been suspiciously numb. Then again, she was flying so high on adrenaline it was probably overriding most of the pain. Even now, her heart was pounding in her chest. She wouldn't be surprised if her blood pressure at that moment was through the roof. At the very least, it'd explain why she'd burst vessels in her eye.

Rae moved up in line as they let another person in. The large man in front of her was being examined, questioned. Nobody got in line behind her. In fact, the lines were dismally short. Truth be told, she'd expected there to be way more people than there were. Raccoon City was huge—with an estimated population of 330,000—so surely there'd be more people to have shown up, even in Murphysboro. She sincerely hoped that she was at the back of a long line and that many other people had already made their way in. There was no way the infection had killed off so many, right? Then again, it'd struck their neighborhood in the middle of the night like a damn freight train. She hadn't known they were in the middle of the zombie apocalypse until she'd literally watched a man get eaten. It made her wonder where the news was in all of this. Surely they'd have reported an outbreak of this magnitude? Unless it'd been too swift, too sudden. But they hadn't even reported on it when it'd started out as a riot in Clements. She frowned. Had there been a cover-up? A conspiracy? Wow, she was starting to sound like Jake.

There were several men in uniform securing the front of the station. They tested the integrity of the metal fence by shaking it, securing the weak areas with heavy yellow chains. Good; they were taking great care to prevent a breach. A few officers had even deigned to start boarding up the doorways at each side of the main entrance, which looked like they lead to a courtyard. Rae peered over the front railing of the police station and was surprised to see that the front entrance was actually some sort of bridge with stairwells on either side leading below. She wondered what was down there. Maybe some sort of guard post? Or maybe a maintenance shed?

"Next," the police officer in front of her hollered. She was startled from her thoughts. She stepped forwards underneath the flood light. "Please raise your arms above your head while I pat you down. This won't take very long. No funny business, I promise. Can you please drop your bag?"

Rae complied, letting the duffel to the ground gently. She swept her eyes over the officer. His nametag read 'K. Jensen'. It was common for officers to be known only as their last name. Her father was known around town as 'Big Colt', though she wasn't quite sure where it'd originated. Obviously it was a play on his last name. The young man was handsome, she noted with a blush. He had those star quarterback looks; blond hair, blue eyes, and a perfect smile. He was just the type of guy her father had warned her to stay away from. Her father always told her to settle down with the bookish, unassuming type.

Rae licked her dry lips. She suddenly felt like her tongue was too big for her mouth and her throat was closing up. Her gaze locked with his pretty blue eyes and she felt her face _burn_. Wow, she was so stupid. She'd completely spaced out on the poor guy and he was probably going to think she was a zombie if she didn't do or say anything.

She raised her right arm carefully. He eyed her in confusion. "My… Um… my s-shoulder on my left side was dislocated in a fall earlier, so I can't raise it. Sorry," she managed to squeak out. Then she remembered. Always inform a cop when you're carrying anything that could be used as a weapon. Thanks, Dad. "I'm armed. There's a machete strapped to my left thigh?" Why had she phrased that like a question? Idiot.

Rae's father had always been protective of her. It was apparently a cop thing. After her mother died, he'd gotten much more invested in keeping his 'little girl' safe. She wasn't able to hang out with boys her age, or go out without at least one girl friend. She couldn't drive without her father riding along. Oh, and he'd bought her a machete to use in case a boy decided to be too forward with her. Between his meddling and her complete lack of interest in anything other than movies, her interactions with the opposite sex had been limited to hanging out with Jake in Film Club. Not that he wasn't attractive and fun, but he was… weird. People who thought vaccines contained government mind control devices were weird. That was a fact.

Officer Jensen smiled brightly at her. "Thanks for letting me know. We'll get you to the medical station as soon as I check you over. Now, please stand with your feet apart and keep that arm reaching for the sky." He showed her the position, popping his feet apart and shooting his arms above his head. "Like so."

She swallowed thickly. Okay, so he was adorable. She moved her feet apart. If Tiffany had been with her, she probably would've joked about 'spreading her legs for some cute guy in a uniform'. She blushed even harder at the thought. The young man was quick and professional, though he let out a whistle when he saw the machete strapped to her thigh. She resisted the urge to run away when he pulled up her sweater to get a better look at it. He brushed against the pouch at her back and seemed to make a mental note of it, but moved on quickly. That had been surprisingly quick and painless, though Rae was sure her poor heart couldn't take any more excitement. She'd keel over dead before the zombies ever got to her.

The officer gave her an animated thumbs up. "You're good. No firearms on your person. We'll check your bags inside, but first I gotta give you a quiz, see if everything checks out." She was sure he winked at her.

"Alright."

He pulled out a clipboard. Her fingers clenched onto the edge of her sweater. "Name?"

Rae blinked owlishly at him. Name? Oh, right! "Chevelle Rae Colter."

"Cool," he muttered under his breath as he wrote it down. "Any identification on you?"

Crap. Rae had left her wallet at home! It hadn't seemed particularly important, compared to stuff she needed to survive. Wait! Rae reached into the top of her cream sweater, prompting a raised eyebrow from the officer in front of her. Her lanyard had her student ID attached to it. It'd be better than nothing, at least.

He leaned in close to look at the tiny picture on the ID, then looked back up at her to make sure everything was correct. Rae was certain she could see his individual eyelashes, he got so close. He smiled at her, revealing a full set of pearly whites.

"South Side University, huh? My cousin's an alumni from there." It was nice of him to try and make small talk. Rae found that she quite liked to listen to his voice. "Age?"

"Nineteen."

"We're close to the same age! Blood type?" He caught her strange look and clarified. "In case we have to do any emergency transfusions.

"O Positive."

The questions continued for a bit, mostly medical stuff. He asked her if she'd been displaying any signs of illness. No fever, cough, illness. No inexplicable aggression. No heightened appetite. It was strange to get what was essentially a medical checkup from a cop. Though Rae had completely expected it, given their circumstances. He ran a light over her eyes a few times, most likely checking for a film. The light lingered on her left eye, probably him taking note of the burst capillaries on her sclera. She hoped it wouldn't affect her chances of getting in. Her pulse was a bit high, he'd commented, though he'd gone on to amend that it was probably due to the situation. Of course it was high; she'd been dodging reanimated corpses all night! She noted with good humor that he put her through a few field sobriety tests. She walked a straight line, followed his finger, and had to say the alphabet backwards. In a way, it made sense. The zombies and those turning seemed to have limited control of their body. She remembered how Miss Vasquez had dropped the vase and how her hands shook just before turning. God, it still hurt.

Rae closed her eyes and shivered. The rain started up again. It began soaking her sweater at the shoulders. It was stupidly appropriate that this would happen while it was cold and rainy. The weather seemed perfect for the melancholy mood. Now she knew why it rained so often in scary or sad movies: it was fitting. Suddenly, the sprinkle grew to a downpour. There was nobody in line behind her and everybody else had been checked out.

"Looks like you're the last one," Officer Jensen murmured. The street beyond was desolate. There were no more people coming. Rae held out hope that a few stragglers would make their way over or that a few savvy people had barricaded their own homes.

"Do you think anybody else will show up?"

The young man sighed, pulling off his hat and running a hand through his hair. "We've been getting people in for a while, now. Anybody who's going to show up already has." For a moment he seemed defeated, then he plastered a smile on his face and walked over to her.

"Shouldn't we close the gate, then?"

Jensen shrugged. "We've been ordered to take in as many survivors as possible. If we can let even one more person in, we will." And run the risk of letting the infection in? But she was certain they weren't going to bar the gates on her orders. Besides, there were officers stationed at each side of the doors with weapons. "Anyway, you should go inside and get settled in. I'll take your bags to Ford through the main entrance; he'll get them sorted." He held out a hand for her duffel bag.

She stared at the offered hand for a moment. It was odd that this was all done so quickly. Surely there'd be some sort of bite check? Obviously she hadn't expected to be stripped down in the streets, but maybe she needed to talk to a female officer about it. "Who should I talk to about getting a body exam? I-I've been bitten. On my hand." It was best to come clean now.

She was surprised when the handsome officer looked confused. "Body exam? I already checked you out."

Rae's jaw dropped. That was _it_? Not checking for bites could render this whole place even less safe than the streets outside! They really didn't know that the infection could spread through bites? That was the stereotype in literally every zombie movie ever! She must've looked alarmed because the officer stopped dead in his tracks. A dark shadow crossed over her mind. They really didn't know what they were dealing with. It was like she'd been wondering earlier: how much had they been told? Not enough, apparently.

"Do you know what's happening to the city right now?"

Officer Jensen looked off to the side in thought, probably debating about whether the information was need-to-know. He started carefully. "All we've been told is that we're to establish a safety center to protect the populace from an infectious disease. It makes people incredibly aggressive. We've only been told to check for symptoms, but not what it is. Orders are shoot on sight if we see anything like it. Why?"

Rae stared at him in horror. "Is there any way I could talk to the person in charge? I think I know what's going on." Jensen looked conflicted for a moment. "Please," she pleaded, trying her best to look small and unassuming. "I have information about the outbreak that might be of use to you. And supplies."

"Let's… Let's get out of the rain and sort this inside." He activated the radio at his shoulder. "Hey… Um, Lieutenant? I have a… witness here. She has information."

The receiver buzzed to life. "Bring her in."

Jensen picked up her bag and gestured for her to follow him. He nodded at the officers on either side of the door politely. Rae took that moment to notice that the cop who'd downed the zombie earlier was nowhere in sight. He'd probably gone inside during her check-up. Jensen pulled the heavy doors open and motioned for her to go first. So, he was a gentleman. Rae looked at the ground to hide her red face and continued following him.

Rae stopped and looked up in awe. It was clear that the building wasn't originally designed to be a police station. The floors were a rich marble that would've costed an arm and leg to buy and install. The banisters and front desk were all a dark, heavy wood that was littered with intricate carvings. A huge goddess statue occupied the landing directly behind the front desk, while a fierce-looking lion statue guarded the second floor. Each of the lights was crafted from fine crystal. It was too easy to picture a prestigious art gallery in this building, rather than the police station it was today. She craned her neck uncomfortably to sneak a peek at the third floor, which didn't seem to be accessible from the main hall.

An amused laugh broke through her observations and she turned to where Jensen was watching her. "It's pretty neat, huh? I stared a lot when I started at this precinct. I transferred from the Rhodes office, so this was a culture shock."

She couldn't imagine working in such a pretty building. The orphanage was fairly rough around the edges in comparison, though she admitted that the stained glass window was one of her favorite things ever. It always lit up the main hall with such a pretty array of color. The station was stark and white by comparison.

Rae noted with a small amount of joy that the phones at the front desk were going off wildly. Good. That meant there were survivors who were holding out elsewhere in the city. An older officer whose nametag read 'D. Ford' was answering them to the best of his ability. He was cradling a phone at his ear, writing something down on a large sheet of paper. She wondered if they were planning a rescue effort. Maybe the military was clearing the streets so the police could find and evacuate survivors? That'd certainly make things easier.

Jensen gestured over to their left, immediately after the entrance. "That's the medical area, where Doc Tsu will get that arm of yours fixed. It's not much to look at, but it's all we had time to throw together with all of… well, _this_." The area was outfitted with a few cots, some rolling dividers, and basic medical supplies. A pretty Asian woman was busy examining a man who looked like he'd fell into a fire. Rae flinched and looked away as the lady doctor began peeling away bits of clothing that'd seared to his flesh. She couldn't even handle seeing wounds in movies, let alone in real life.

Ahead, most people that'd made it to the refuge were gathered at the landing. Rae noted that there were at least thirty-five people, not including the officers in blue. She was simultaneously happy that there were so many survivors and saddened that there weren't even more. Officers were busy clearing out rest areas, moving desks form the landing up to the second story windows. They were probably trying to give the crowd a little wiggle room; it was thick enough that if somebody turned it could be an awful affair. While most had opted to stand near the Goddess Statue, some waited in the lobby off to the left, piling onto the comfy-looking leather benches. Most of these people were elderly, seemed to be sick or disabled, or were tied down with children. Oh, God. She'd forgotten about children. It wasn't often that you saw children as victims in times of crisis in movies. Sure, some had babies or kids to tug on the heartstrings, but they were overshadowed by adult tragedy. In fact, the movie series she'd just watched had no children zombies. It was basically taboo.

Officer Jensen's radio buzzed to life. He placed his ear on the speaker, listening intently. Rae unashamedly tried to eavesdrop but all she could hear was intermitted buzzing and static. Stupid low quality radios. He looked at her thoughtfully and responded to the person on the other end. So, they were talking about her? She felt like a child again, with her parents talking about her in hushed voices. It made her want to stick her tongue out at the young officer, but she resisted the urge.

"Okay Miss Colter, we'll have somebody out to talk to you in just a moment. Lieutenant Branagh has a few loose ends to tie up, but he'll be down in a bit. In the meantime, what do you have in here? Bricks?" The man jostled her duffel back pointedly.

"Um… Mostly canned stuff. You can take a look if you want. Just please leave the red blanket in there; it was my mom's."

The officer gave her a look that landed somewhere on the spectrum between pity and sympathy. And she thought she observed a bit of understanding in his baby blue eyes. "Of course, Miss." He smiled at her. "Let's bust this bad boy open, then! I want to see what presents you brought us."

He dropped the bag onto a nearby table and snuck a peek. He pulled the dismal first aid kit out and set it aside. The he began systematically emptying everything out and laying it to the side. Miss Vasquez had helped her stock her cabinets with goods, so they'd been full of a healthy variety of both goodies that Rae liked and food she'd never touch unless she was actively starving to death. So she was picky; sue her. The officer snickered a little as he pulled out a second can of creamed corn—companion to the one that'd been sacrificed in her mad dash for the station.

"Ah, yes. A delicacy in nursing homes across the nation, so I hear."

Rae arched an eyebrow, suddenly feeling a bit bold. "Maybe I robbed one on the way here?"

Jensen faked a scandalized gasp. "The most depraved kind of criminal—a vegetable villain!"

She rolled her eyes at his dramatics. At least he was keeping her mood up. She actually liked this young officer. Great, she was developing her first crush ever. All it took was the apocalypse. Sure, she'd formed crushes on fictional characters and actors, but real people were unpredictable. And they were much harder to interact with, given that they had so many hidden layers. People following a script were much more accessible; often times, what you saw was what you got. Rae scoffed in mixed embarrassment and humor. She was so weird, comparing a living, breathing man to a fictional person.

She continued on with their friendly banter, feeling more comfortable in his presence by the second. "I had another can of creamed corn, but I used it as a distraction on the way here. If you want, we can go rescue it."

"An absolute travesty. We'll send out a retrieval team right away," he stated dryly before clearing his throat and adopting a much more earnest tone. "Really though, thank you. We weren't as prepared for this as we would've liked, so every little bit helps." He gazed at her with a sincerity that made her heart race.

"Just doing my civic duty, officer."

"You're an odd one, aren't you?"

Yes, she was. Most people had probably brought a change of clothes or precious heirlooms with them. Rae hadn't any valuables that were worth taking, and she could just wash her clothes in the sink if need be. It wasn't necessary for a single person to cramp up the station even more with useless junk. Most people also would've probably _not _been decked out in leather butt-kicking gear, but she pinned that beautiful mess on her father. God, she was thankful he was a basket case.

Rae was about to ask him about seeking medical treatment when all Hell broke loose. A woman at the landing screamed bloody murder. Jensen's hand went instinctively to his holstered pistol. The people on the landing were frantically moving away from the Goddess Statue, spilling up the stairs, down the ramps, and even spilling over the banisters behind the front desk. Somebody had turned. Rae's stomach did cartwheels.

The young officer raced into the chaos and Rae followed close behind him, hand on her own weapon, though it wouldn't do her much good without her swinging arm. Her curiosity got the better of her and she just _had_ to see. What an idiot, the instinctive part of her brain screamed at her. She pushed that aside. If she knew what was going on, she'd understand her own situation better as well. This could be an opportunity to assess her own situation. If the police station was infested by potential monsters, she may just make the decision to brave the streets in search of somewhere better.

An infected man was kneeling over the limp body of a woman. She was twitching erratically as she bled out, a gaping wound in her neck. Rae gasped and placed her functional hand to her mouth. It was grisly, seeing somebody get mauled in the light. The man outside the phone booth had been in too much darkness to be able to see, and the bartender on her apartment floor had been hidden behind a doorway. The light made everything so much more real. Like black-and-white becoming Technicolor. She almost threw up in her mouth.

Jensen next to her whipped out his pistol and trained it on the infected man. The zombie stood up, excited by the crowd's rambunctiousness, and began shuffling over to a sobbing man. Beside her, Jensen shook. He'd probably never had to shoot anybody before. It was rare for cops with a long career to fire their weapon, and even more so for somebody who was obviously still a bit green.

His voice shook. "Sir! Hands over your head and lay down on the ground!" The zombie kept advancing. "Sir! Down on the ground! Now!"

Rae stepped forward tentatively. "Officer Jensen, he won't listen. He's infected." She gave him a look that was far stronger than she felt. "You have to put him down."

The young man spared her a helpless glance and trained his vision back on the monster before him. The thing had stopped inching towards the other man and had instead decided to shuffle towards the officer's resonating voice. There were other officers in the area, but they were blockaded by the panicking civilians. They wouldn't be able to make a clean shot. Rae bit her lip and watched the scene unfold helplessly. She hid her face in the bulk of her filthy cream sweater as a gunshot sounded. Surprisingly, it wasn't from beside her. That had come from above.

The same older officer who'd sniped the zombie outside with his pistol was at the second floor balcony, weapon drawn. The young man beside her shakily holstered his weapon. He wiped his hands on his black slacks and acknowledged the grizzled man above. "Lieutenant Branagh! Sir!"

The man admonished him with a glance. "Our orders are to put down those infected, Jensen! That was a rookie mistake."

Jensen nodded. He shook his head and sighed deeply, ashamed and horrified at the scene on front of him. Rae wanted to pat the man on the shoulder, but she wasn't in any positon to offer him comfort. Besides, she had something more important to attend to. This must've been the person currently in charge, and he was only a lieutenant. She offhandedly wondered where the upper brass were, specifically Police Chief Irons. Had they been taken by the infection? Or were they behind the scenes having an emergency meeting?

Bravely, she craned her neck up to look at him, taking in his features. The man had obviously seen Hell in his lifetime; the chaos that'd unfolded had done little to shake him. His gaze was steady and firm, without hesitation. It was a bit strange to admit that he reminded her of her father, though she was certain they were nothing alike. He had the same aura, like he could tackle anything. Rae licked her dry lips. How was she supposed to talk to him? It didn't look like he was in the mod for any more surprises.

Behind her, the officers began leading people away so that they could clean the mess up. Rae eyed the body warily. Sure, there was a hole where its forehead used to be, but that didn't mean anything. Her sex fiend neighbor had beat on a solid wooden door with his face until his brain was exposed. Ignoring Jensen's cry of alarm, she sprinted up a clearing in the stairs, aiming to talk to the Lieutenant before it was too late. He was talking with another, older officer when she reached the second floor. She cradled her injured arm.

"Lieutenant Branagh!"

The man gave her an appraising glance and waved her off. "Please wait below with the others. We'll have your living spaces figured out shortly." He turned back to the other officer and began speaking as though she wasn't there. "Now, I want Scott and Slaughessy to dismantle the East Offices. Pull apart the bullpen and use the desks as a barricade. Leave the office intact, we can use it to—"

"Lieutenant Branagh!" Rae was highly aware that interrupting people was rude. But this was an emergency and she was tired of being ignored. "Please listen to me: that man you just shot, he's—"

"Miss Colter! You can't just run off like that." And there was Officer Jensen, rocketing up the stairs. She wanted to tug her hair out. He grabbed her uninjured arm carefully, trying to lead her away.

She cried out, "Don't tug me away. Seriously. This is important!" She whirled on the young officer and gave him puppy eyes. "Please, let me talk to him."

He gave a strangled sigh and looked overwhelmed. Poor guy. He'd just almost had to shoot a man and now he was chasing some crazy girl around the police station. "The Lieutenant is very busy. You can talk to him in a few moments."

"That man is going to get up again. The one you guys just shot. He's not dead." Rae pulled her arm free and stared unflinchingly.

"That's ridiculous! He had a hole in his head!" The young man waved his arms, losing it a little. She'd probably be skeptical too, had she not seen the crazy that'd already unfolded today. Hell, he probably thought she was crazy.

"And my neighbor didn't have a throat, but she still got up and attacked the lady across the hall! Please just hear me out!"

"That's crazy," the young man said childishly and Rae stuck her tongue out, also immature but not quite caring.

Rae turned towards Branagh and flinched when he was staring intently at her. "Can I please just have my moment to rave like a nutcase, then we'll dismiss my claims?"

The older officer raised an eyebrow. His ebony skin was pulled taut around his jawline, signaling that he wasn't amused by their little show. "Very well. But you get five minutes."

Rae sighed in relief. "So that guy was a zombie."

"I've changed my mind. We're done here."

She almost screamed. "Wait! I'm not making this up or a raving lunatic, I promise! I watched a guy get mauled in the street earlier and he got back up with his internal organs literally falling from his body. I know it's crazy, but what do we know about this disease? It makes people sick, they get aggressive, they become unresponsive, they get hungry, their eyes glaze over, they wander around without direction and groan. What else could it be?"

She obviously wasn't making her case. They looked thoroughly unimpressed. It was enough to make her want to emulate her neighbor and bash her head against something solid. Were her internal jokes getting more and more morbid? She shivered under their judgmental stares. Well, until a commotion down the stairs made her case for her. The dead man rose again and tried to latch his teeth into the nearest police officer, a young woman. She screamed and fired three rounds into his skull at point blank range. Rae turned towards them and gestured down at the scene in frustration.

"See? Zombies!"

The officers stared down in shock, then looked back at her with wide eyes. Seriously, did they not know about the zombies? Did they really think it was just some illness? Obviously it was a hard bit of fact to chew on, but they needed to sink their teeth in nonetheless. And now she was using biting metaphors. Classic Rae. She rolled her eyes at her own internal ridiculousness.

Lieutenant Branagh shook himself from his stupor and adopted a serious face. He pressed the police radio to his lips.

"Cole. Did you check John Doe's pulse before he attacked? Was he dead?"

A buzzing affirmative answered him. Branagh cast his chocolate gaze at Rae. He frowned and rubbed his forehead. He asked about the female victim as well, also receiving bad news. Rae knew that it was only a matter of time before she rose as well. He had a difficult road ahead, and this crazy person in front of him seemed to have the only road map. She felt sorry for him. Eventually, after mulling everything over, he turned to her.

"Okay. You've gotten my attention. Start from the beginning."

So she did. She recounted her steps, starting in that phone booth. Seeing a man being eaten, retrieving her goods at home, rescuing Miss Vasquez. Her voice cracked a little whenever she mentioned the woman turning in the courtyard. She shared the discoveries that she'd made along the way: that they were mostly blind, but reacted to light and swift movement; that they were seemingly attracted to sound; and that a single bite could turn you in under twelve hours.

"Whatever this disease is, Lieutenant, it spreads fast. Like, incredibly so. The man I saw get mauled on the streets died and was changed in under ten minutes. And I don't know how long bites actually take to change a person, but they're mainly how this thing passes around."

The Lieutenant hummed in his chest. "So, it uses blood and saliva as a carrier. It's probably spread by other bodily fluids as well. We should secure those bodies, then. Make sure they don't spring up and start biting anybody else." He took to his radio again. "Cole, get tape over their mouths and see if you can't get Hobbs to bring body bags from below. I'll take care of everything from there. Jones, keep the targets contained until we can properly secure them."

Branagh turned to face Rae again and told her escort to get her medical care while he discussed the best course of action for those who'd been bitten. Rae wondered if there'd be a quarantine established. It'd be smartest to separate the bitten from the healthy populace. She rubbed her hand nervously; that'd probably include her as well. The old wound on it was clearly teeth marks. They'd take no chances, not with this.

Jensen led her to the doctor with a gentle hand on her lower back, probably to keep her from running off again. The gesture made her a bit uncomfortable, felt a bit too familiar. Still, she didn't let it show and even rolled her eyes at him when she caught his gaze. He looked much more serious than when he'd first come in. She'd probably be in trouble with him later.

Rae was led to an occupied cot, though the person sitting there had already been checked and taken care of, if the bandage around her lower leg was any indication. She had lovely auburn hair and vibrant green eyes, though they were dulled with heavy emotion. Rae instantly recognized the woman as the mother who'd been in the admission line next to her. She acknowledged the older woman politely and sat down next to her. Rae caught the woman staring at her bloodshot eye a few times, though she never asked about it.

"We came in together," the woman spoke.

"Yeah." Rae held out her good hand for the woman to shake. "Umm… I'm Rae. Colter, that is."

"Jessica Gates." The woman gave her a semblance of a warm smile before turning away and staring of into space. Rae wondered where the woman's baby had gone. Maybe they'd established a safe zone for the children? Or maybe they hadn't let the little one come with her during her medical checkup. A baby would probably only get in the way, after all.

"Do you think this place is safe?" Jessica surprised her by speaking up.

Rae thought for a moment. "I hope so. At the very least, it'll be easier to defend than a regular building."

"I hope so, too. My husband was supposed to meet up with us, but…" The woman stared at her hands for a moment. "Sorry. We've only just met and I'm probably weighing you down."

"I don't mind. Special circumstances and all." Rae smiled at the woman.

It was a pleasant silence that followed. Rae discovered that the woman had a son, whose name was Caleb. He was named after an old family friend. One of the lady cops had taken him to a makeshift nursey to sleep. Her husband had been a worker for JavaTech. Jessica herself was once a nurse, though she seemed to know very little about the disease that was spreading. All she was certain about was that it was incredibly fast-spreading and incredibly deadly.

Rae waited for the good doctor to set her arm. While the woman was busy smearing a strange concoction on some poor man's wounds, Rae's attention was diverted to the second floor, where Branagh stood with a megaphone. Jensen, who lingered a few steps away from her, caught her eye and winked. She responded by sticking her tongue out. From what she could see, the team had already disposed of the bodies. Efficient. The crowd was still tense from the earlier events.

Lieutenant Branagh spoke calmly and carefully. "Please settle down and listen for a moment. I have an important update regarding our current situation. As some of you know, Raccoon City has been placed under lockdown and this building had been designated as a safe zone for the foreseeable future. We have identified the source of this lockdown as a highly infectious disease. The symptoms of this illness include nausea, loss of motor control, impaired judgement, heightened aggression, and the complete absence of pain. It's quite possible that we're looking at a form of Rabies. If you have been exposed to an animal displaying these symptoms or have been bitten by one, please come forward immediately. If you have been exposed to a person exhibiting these symptoms, please come forward immediately. You may be infected.

"We must do all that we can to keep this station secure. I have just been informed that there's a high probability that this infection is spread through contact with blood and saliva. So, in the next few moments everybody will be directed to nearby rooms for private screenings. You will be checked for bites, claw marks, anything that could be used to transmit the infection. Women, please follow Officers Philips and Cole to the West Hall." Two female officers at his right side waved to gain the spectators' attention. "Men, you're with Officers Jones and Slaughessy to my left. Please use the East Hall. After you've been cleared, you'll be given your designated sleeping area. Please leave all possessions in the Main Hall until you've been cleared. Thank you for your cooperation."

The doctor set Rae's shoulder in record time, admitting that the swelling wasn't particularly bad, though the numbness of the area was cause for concern. She might've irreparably damaged a nerve. To her embarrassment, she'd had to strip off her sweater and shirt, so Jessica and Jensen had been shooed away and a rolling curtain moved to preserve the young woman's modesty. It hurt terribly. She was given a few Ibuprofen to soothe the awful pain of the recently-set joint and a flimsy sling that looked like it was made from cheesecloth. The doctor gave her three weeks until the thing was healed fully and she'd be able to move it. It was the zombie apocalypse and she'd messed up her dominant arm for three weeks. She felt so stupid.

God, the thing hurt so bad. And she still had to get her clothes back on, too. That was going to be a struggle just by itself. Doctor Tsu patiently helped her put her black undershirt inch-by-inch. Rae's teeth remained gritted the entire time. How was it that the stupid thing hurt worse after the treatment than it did before? Had it even hurt this bad when she'd injured it in the first place? Yeah, she was being a big baby, but that had hurt! She didn't know how action heroes could just pop stuff back into place and then go back to shooting the bad guys. Movies apparently just assumed that people naturally had the pain tolerance of freaking gorillas, apparently. Speaking of, Rae offhandedly wondered what'd happened to the Raccoon City Zoo. Zombified gorillas and lions sounded terrifying.

They'd decided that Rae's chest harness was too much trouble, and there was no need for her to wear her sweater inside where it was warm. Not to mention the fact that the clothing article was absolutely soaked from the rain and filthy from her tumble. If anything, Rae figured she could use her dad's old sweater as a sling if she tore through her current one. Her dad. She groaned. He was probably home asleep, given that it was about one in the morning, but he'd be expecting a phone call from her to check in. If she didn't call he was likely to come to Raccoon City and mow through the zombie hordes just to find her. She'd have to keep him away somehow.

Rae pushed aside the mobile divider and watched people line up to exit the Main Hall. Her eyes scanned the expansive room for Jensen. The younger officer was standing by the entrance to the East Hall. Lieutenant Branagh was behind the large wooden front desk, mulling over his maps. Rae walked over to lean against the dark wood. It was heavy, solid. She guessed oak. Her father had built a bar in their garage out of dark oak wood and he'd had to have three of his buddies from the precinct come move it; that was half the length of the one in the Raccoon City Police Department.

The lieutenant didn't so much as spare her a glance. She imagined he was doing something important with his time and didn't want to steal him away for too long. Biting her lip nervously, she cleared her throat. "Um… Lieutenant?"

The man glanced at her form the corner of his eye. "I must admit, when you spoke to me earlier, I thought you were crazy."

Jerk! Rae huffed, crossing her arms childishly. "I'm not crazy," she mumbled.

"No, you are not." He pushed aside some of the papers in front of him and scrawled something at the corners in messy writing. "I talked to some of the others. They didn't quite come to the… conclusion that you did: about the zombie apocalypse." Rae raised an eyebrow. "But they _did_ say some eerily similar things in their own statements. People that should be dead moving around, people who'd been bitten suddenly changing." The man looked up at her. "Jensen tells me that you've been bitten. I hope you understand the position that this puts me in."

She shrugged, unworried. If she could help keep the others safe, she'd gladly be locked away. Helping people was always the best course of action. That's what her dad had raised her to believe. "Trust me when I say that one of your cells is probably bigger than my apartment; I'll be fine. Besides, I wouldn't have said anything if I _really_ wanted to fly under the radar."

Stony-faced, the man left his work behind. He sighed, defeated. Rae could see the bags under his eyes. "I'm glad you decided to speak up. We need all the help we can get to face this. Or none of us will make it out of this station." His tone had a sort of weary finality. "Jensen has been ordered to take you directly to a cell. He's waiting for you."

A part of her couldn't believe everything that'd happened. It was too terrible, too ridiculous. She'd much rather be home right now, sipping on a cup of coffee, watching a movie. Her neighbors would be back at it again, screwing like rabbits and shaking the apartment walls. A quick glance out the window would reveal the young Thai man doing his meticulous maintenance on his mother's restaurant. Miss Vasquez would be just waking up in the mid afternoon and would still be lively as ever. A call would come in, telling her to come to the orphanage to fill in another person's shift. She'd have to refuse because she had a college lecture to get ready for. Tiffany and Jake would both be waiting in the tiny room that'd been designated for the Film Club. It was all too surreal, knowing that life would ever be the same again. Rae shook herself, coming back to the present.

"I'm sure if we're careful, we'll make it through this."

The Lieutenant didn't seem to agree with her, but he stayed quiet. It was probably best to leave him to his work, she realized. The older police officer who'd been manning the phones gave her a small smile. She curiously peered at the paper in front of him, the one he'd been writing on earlier. It was all locations, addresses. Maybe a list of people who needed rescued? She averted her attention and retrieved the familiar duffel bag on the upper part of the reception desk.

The police had already managed to clear her duffel bag of all the canned goods and what little medical equipment she'd packed. She was happy to find that they'd left her mother's throw blanket alone, folded neatly at the bottom. It was joined by her father's hand-me-down sweater and the leather chest harness. She balanced the bag precariously on her uninjured shoulder, hissing in annoyance whenever it bumped against her sling.

Rae made her way over to where Officer Jensen was waiting. Most of the people that'd once been in the Main Hall had since cleared out, most likely awaiting their designations. Rae wondered how many had been infected. How many would be joining her in quarantine? She hoped she got a cell to herself so that if somebody changed she wouldn't have to worry about them trying to eat her.

Officer Jensen noticed her approach and a blindingly white smile split his face. "Well, if it isn't our resident loony person!"

"I'm not crazy." Rae frowned at him. Where did he get all that energy from?

"C'mon! Zombies? That's a little crazy."

Jensen laughed good naturedly and led her through the winding halls of the east side of the police station, chatting happily with her. He seemed to be doing well for somebody who just learned that the dead had risen. Then again, it was probably just his way of coping. He probably had friends and family in the city, just like the others. Rae guessed that beneath that smile he was an absolute wreck. She looked down at her feet in thought. She really hadn't had much to lose, not like most everybody else in Raccoon City. Everything she needed, she'd been able to bring with her.

The police station was laid out strangely compared to the tiny building in Huntsville. It was clear that many of the rooms had been added after the initial construction of the building to section it off. The hallways were narrow and oddly shaped, not like they had been planned out. They made a full circuit around the East Offices, according to Jensen. Through the double doors Rae was able to see a large expanse of desks in varying stages of disarray. Their escort gave her a quick verbal tour, gesturing towards the Press Room and the hallway that would've taken them to the bathrooms and Interrogation Room. It was quite a large station. Jensen was only half joking when he warned her not to run off. She winced.

Rae noted that the walls were covered in bulletin boards, which were themselves covered in papers of all shapes and sizes. There were even a few pictures tacked up here and there. They passed through what Jensen called the 'Watchman's Room', where they greeted an elderly cop behind a desk. The man looked weary.

"This is Tyson. He keeps us up to date on the people using the break room." Jensen waved politely at the older man, who was writing in a log. "He's not as grumpy as he looks", the younger cop joked.

Tyson raised a grey eyebrow and huffed. "Don't try my patience, kid. I'll have Hobbs lock you up again."

Again? Rae wondered if Jensen was the trouble maker of the group. He certainly seemed a little mischievous. Also, had they locked one of their fellow officers in the clink for something? She snorted at the thought.

Jensen rubbed the back of his head in faux embarrassment. "Jeez, Tyson! Keep that on the down low. Can't have this lovely lady thinking I'm a menace, now."

"You are a menace, kid. Only person with balls big enough to put a thumb tack on Lieutenant Faulker's chair. I'm surprised she didn't kill you." The older man smiled at the two women. "Anyway, who is this?"

"The first member of our quarantine. I'm sure you heard over the radio?"

"Yup. Bad news, that. Still, got the cells cleaned up for you. The kleptomaniac passed sometime last night, so we moved him to the morgue. Ben's still bitching, though. Don't let him get under your skin."

Rae's nose wrinkled. She wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but she could glean that it had to do with their new accommodations. From what she could gather, one of the inhabitants had passed away. That made her nervous. She hoped that the morgue was secure, just in case he decided to come back to join the legion of the undead.

"M'lady", Jensen acknowledged her with a smile and tip of his hat. "We should get moving before all the best rooms are taken, no?"

They passed the Break Room before taking a flight of stairs downwards. So, the holding cells were underground. Creepy. The stark cement walls of the underground were much more unwelcoming than the decorative ones at the station proper. She found herself gripping Jensen's arm out of anticipation and a bit of fear. The whole place looked like it was home to a slasher film.

They passed by rooms that Jensen pointed out as being the Generator Room and Firing Range. The Morgue was around the hall, according to him. He shivered a little when he mentioned it. Apparently there were bad memories connected with the room. Not surprising. Barking at their left hand side startled Rae. The k-9 unit? Rae shook. Big dogs weren't her favorite creatures. She'd had a particularly bad experience with one as a child. She hoped that the disease couldn't be transmitted between species. The thought of a legion of zombie dogs honestly scared her more than she cared to admit. They met the dog handler on the way past. He was a large-built man with the lovely smile. He was also a few days out from retirement. What a terribly ironic situation. It sounded so familiar. Maybe she'd seen a similar situation in a movie?

The parking garage was an absolute mess. It looked like people had tried to pile into the station in their vehicles before the place was locked down. There were even a few crashed into the walls, she noted. Panic was a powerful thing; it completely overrode logic and rationality. And apparently made people drive like psychos as well. They navigated the empty space between a concrete support and the most hideously bright Mini Cooper she'd ever seen. The gate for the garage was down and the handsome officer at her side informed her that the area outside was inaccessible due to the sinkhole and a few well-placed concrete barriers. God, she'd forgotten about the sinkhole! A section of road had collapsed, cutting off the bus route to the orphanage. It was one of the main reasons she'd even started walking the back alleys to get to work. She was honestly surprised that it hadn't been fixed yet. And now it never would be.

Rae leaned into Jensen's warmth. It was a sobering thought that everything that Raccoon City had been was now reduced to nothing. Even if they managed to clear out the zombies and rid the contagion form the streets, would anybody ever want to live there again? Maybe they'd have to demolish the entire city after all was said and done. She shivered a little. An entire city, erased in the span of only a few days. If this was the plague, it was the worst in human history. If this was a biological weapon, it'd done its job a little too well. She wondered again where the zombies had come from. Her hand itched annoyingly.

"Maybe you're immune?" Jensen spoke up. She didn't really want to correct him and say that there was absolutely no way she was infected. It'd take too long to explain. "I mean, not everybody's changed yet, right? Maybe there are some bitten who won't change. Or maybe there's a way of treating it." He turned to give them a somewhat strained smile.

Rae frowned. Yeah, it was possible for somebody to be resistant to illness, but was Zombieism—Zombification? Zombiness? Zombieitis?—even an actual disease? It could be a virus, or a bacterial infection, or a parasite, or a fungus. She'd once seen a movie where a fungal infection turned people into weird mushroom headed zombies. Those things were the absolute creepiest monsters she'd ever seen. And she'd watched "The Thing". She shuddered a little; body horror movies made her skin crawl. Honestly, Rae didn't have an intimate knowledge of medicine or even the human body. Not like Tiffany—who was training to become a pathologist, like her Uncle Bill and Aunt Nettie. Rae hadn't even considered what the disease could even be, or if people could be immune.

"I hope you're right."

Rae eyed the posture of the officer next to her. His shoulders bore the telltale signs of being heavily weighed down. They were slumped but stiff. His hands were balled into fists as they swung at his side. She'd seen his façade slip more than once, that happy mask he was wearing vanish. Underneath the bright and cheery exterior, he was as terrified as anybody would be. Despite that, he remained like sunshine in the darkness. Rae smiled at the man's back. He was doing it to put her at ease.

"Thank you, Officer Jensen." For everything.

:.:

_To Be Continued…_

:.:

**A/N: **And, boom! I feel _much_ better about this version than I did when everybody just talked. I realized how awful boring it was. Like, how did anybody make it through? Anyway, more Jensen goodness. You'll notice that Jessica is now a minor character. It became too difficult to balance everybody's interactions, so I cut her down a bit. She'll still appear as a named character in the next chapter, though her role has been diminished. Sorry, guys! Anyway, check out the next two chapters which were posted with this revision. Don't forget to leave me your opinion about the changes in the comments.

Special thanks to xXxRena-MariexXx for helping out!


	4. Ember

Ember

**Rating:** M**  
Warnings: **Violence, Language, Drug/Alcohol References/Abuse, Mild/Explicit Sexual Content**  
Disclaimer:** All properties related to the Resident Evil/Biohazard series belong to Capcom. Any other products are the intellectual property of their respective owners.**  
A/N: **Important update! The lovely and lively xXxRena-MariexXx will be helping me rework this story to get it to as close to perfect as we can manage. This means that I now officially have both a beta reader and an advisor; yay! This also means that we'll be going back to earlier chapters and giving them one final revision to make sure that everything's up to snuff. This won't be major in the first two, for those of you who've been with me since the beginning, but there will be a big change to both this chapter and Chapter 3. You'll notice that the first half of this chapter was pulled directly from the previous. We both decided that chapter was way too long and dragged on after a point. New stuff also happens at the police station because we felt it was a little too slow. Revisions like this won't be common, so bear with us. Sorry if you hate rereading the same bits twice, but we want this story to be the highest quality possible.

Special thank you to everybody who has reviewed, followed, or favorited thus far. Also, big girl hooray for those who've voted in the poll. Stay awesome! You guys actually picked an option that I originally put in as a joke, that I thought nobody would pick. So now I have to find a way to work in a realistic love triangle. That'll keep things fun! Special acknowledgements in the A/N at the end. Alrighty, let's get on with it!

:.:

Rae had once spent a night in jail; she hadn't been a prisoner, but the cop kids had a lock-in sleepover at the station. It'd been fun, though she'd been very small at the time and the details were a bit fuzzy. They'd gotten to see how the cells worked, how the office functioned, how the K-9 units worked with the officers. It'd been such a good night for her, seeing her father's work truly for the first time. Of course, the Huntsville office was nothing compared to Raccoon City's. Where her hometown boasted two cells, the place she found herself in was a true prison.

Rae's cell was a little roomier than she'd anticipated, since it was obviously made to house two people. Since she had arrived first, she'd had gotten what Jensen jokingly called the 'Deluxe Suite', which was the farthest at the end of the hall. There had only been two prisoners in the jail during the start of all this: a kleptomaniac named Justin Hanson who'd died of a heart attack during the previous night, and a loud-mouthed journalist named Ben. Rae realized why the officer above had cautioned Jensen about letting Ben get under his skin; he was the most annoying person on the planet. For the first twenty minutes of their quarantine, he griped and groaned and hollered about 'miscarriages of justice' and 'getting his dues'.

She and Jensen talked to distract themselves, both from the annoying man across the way, and from the oppressive darkness of the cells. The lights weren't working in any of the cells. Jensen said that it was because a fuse had blown, but Rae was thoroughly convinced it was an act of Satan to make this creepy place even creepier. Jensen had donned a big, stereotypical key ring that allowed him to unlock the cell doors by hand. It was much more tedious than pressing a button in the control room, apparently.

They talked for what seemed like an hour. She'd grown comfortable with the young man, and he'd seemed to take a liking to her. He'd even pulled a chair up beside her cell so they could discuss. They talked about inane things: books, movies, favorite colors, animals. Well, Jensen did most of the talking. Rae enjoyed listening to his enthusiasm, which seemed to be contagious. She wished she had that much energy. The events of the day had taken everything out of her.

Rae was happy that she'd been allowed to bring her bag with her. She had been bundled comfortably under her mother's throw whenever the others began filing in through the cells, led by a few officers she hadn't seen before. Some of the bitten were crying, while others were protesting their treatment as unconstitutional. Rae silently wondered where in the hell in the constitution there was a clause about treatment of infected persons during a zombie apocalypse. It was stupid and selfish to stay amongst the healthy populace. She listened as they got everybody put in their cells. It was drawn out, mostly because each cell needed to be unlocked manually and some of the bitten needed _coaxing_.

Rae recognized Jessica, the woman from the Main Hall. So the bandage on her leg had been hiding a bite mark? Rae closed her eyes and sighed. She hoped the baby was somewhere safe. Jessica had to share a cell with an older man, but Rae had thankfully been left without a roommate. After each of the cells was secure, the other officers said their goodbyes to Jensen. It looked like they were putting him on guard duty again. Poor guy couldn't seem to catch a break. He was stuck in the coldest part of the station with a bunch of time bombs.

"Sorry that it's not lavish or anything." The handsome officer sat down in his chair. The young woman looked at him in confusion. "The cell, I mean. It's pretty sparse."

"Eh. It's not a big deal or anything. So, how long until we're back on the streets, Officer?"

"A while", he answered, surprisingly stiff. Well, that didn't bode well. It was likely they were just waiting for everybody to change. Even those who hadn't displayed symptoms could be infected. It was more than likely that none of them would be let out of their cells. Rae would most likely be the only survivor out of this batch. She thought of Jessica in the cell next to her and gritted her teeth. After everybody had changed, she could probably talk her way out of the cell. It would just be a waiting game.

An awkward silence passed. Rae buried her face in the red fabric of her blanket and stared at the cell wall opposite her. Out of the corner of her eye, Jensen had taken off his hat and was running a hand through his messy golden hair. He probably hadn't been a cop for very long, given his age. Hadn't he said earlier that he was close to her in years?

"I'm pretty new to all of this," Jensen muttered, unprompted. Rae blushed. Was the guy reading her mind? "I just became a cop last April, so I'm still a rookie to most of these old timers. Truth be told, this is not how I imagined life going." He placed his head in his hands and sighed.

"If you predicted that the dead would somehow reanimate, I'd ask you for the winning lottery numbers. I don't think anybody saw this coming. It's too…" Rae gestured above her. She couldn't quite think of the word.

"Absolutely fucking stupidly ridiculous to an almost unreasonable level?"

"Not quite as articulate as I was going for. But, yeah." Rae giggled a little and he returned her smile. He had a nice smile. It was like sunshine.

The others in the background were still calling out, asking for help, griping about their situation. Rae watched the young officer's shoulders hunch a little more with each cry. He was waiting for them all to die. There was a sort of helplessness that was almost tangible in his weary sigh. He'd resigned himself to the fact that there was nothing for him to do. Rae rested her head against the wall behind her. It reminded her of how she'd felt when Miss Vasquez had turned, how she'd been after falling for the fence. She was suddenly back in the alleyway, leaning up against the dirty brick wall of the old pawnshop and watching her feral neighbor try to grab at her. Completely useless.

"Don't let this get to you. There's nothing you can do about it. If you dwell on it you'll make yourself sick."

Jensen's baby blue eyes snapped up to meet hers. "I'm supposed to help people. That's why I joined. I can't just sit back and wait for everybody to die!"

"Think of the people upstairs, of the children. If the infected were to turn loose up there, _nobody_ would survive." Rae surprised herself by reaching through the cell bars and gripping his hand tightly. "This is for the best."

He gripped her hand like a lifeline. "It all just feels so wrong."

"Well, if this whole thing felt right, I'd worry about your mental health."

Officer Jensen gave a low chuckle. "I'm starting to worry about your mental health. You're a little too calm."

Rae shrugged as well as she could with one functional shoulder. "Horror movie buff. There's nothing this apocalypse couldn't throw at me that I haven't already seen." She sounded a lot braver than she felt. Truth be told, she was _too_ overwhelmed to break down. So stressed, she was zen.

He ran his thumb over the back of her hand and she realized awkwardly that he was still touching her. But she didn't pull away. His hands were rough. With his polished movie star looks she honestly would've expected his hands to be cocoa butter smooth. It was obvious that he handled paperwork regularly, since his fingers were littered with tiny scars from nicks and scratches. He had a bandage wrapped around the tip of his pinky, even. Desk jockey. She snorted in good humor. Her father had hated doing paperwork on the force and always tried to foist it on the new people.

"What are you giggling at over there? Conspiring?"

"_Always_", Rae answered easily. Her earlier nervousness was gone. "I was laughing at my father. He's a cop, too. Twenty years. He always gives his paperwork to the new recruits."

Jensen looked scandalized. "Ugh. I better not have been doing his paperwork for the past year." Then the young man seemed to grow a bit more serious. "He's not stationed here in the city, is he?"

"Nope. Huntsville. That was my hometown before I became a city gal."

"That's a relief." Rae agreed. She wouldn't know what she'd have done if her father was somewhere by himself in this Hellscape. She'd probably not even have to do anything. He'd move mountains and swim oceans and kill every zombie in his path without breaking a sweat. But what about Officer Jensen's family? Surely they had been in the thick of it? She didn't want to pry into his personal life, so she quickly though up another topic.

"So, how is it being the rookie in a big city? You seem to have already earned some battle scars." She looked at his hands pointedly.

"Mostly coffee runs, paperwork, and pranks. I have a coffee burn in the shape of Wisconsin over my right nipple." He waggled his eyebrows. "Maybe after all this is over with, I'll show it to you."

"Buy me a drink first and I'll consider inspecting your nipple burn." Rae laughed loudly for the first time since the apocalypse had started. Wow. That felt nice.

"It's a date."

"Alrighty, but you're paying."

Rae could see Ben pacing in his cell across the way, scribbling something on a piece of paper. She wondered what he was in there for. Journalist tended to be nosey and poke into others' business. He'd probably prodded a little too much where he wasn't welcomed, and had been put in the cell as a warning to cool his head. The others in the cells were still making an awful racket, though that was beginning to die down a bit. Rae could hear Jessica quietly talking to the man in her cell. She heard a small giggle. Good. At least the woman was staying distracted.

"The people here are like my family." Officer Jensen had a faraway look in his eyes. "I was raised in the orphanage down the road. Chief Irons is the director there, you know? So I've wanted to be a cop since meeting him. He's like our stern dad, always looking out for us. The others are like my rowdy brothers and sisters. We get along, we fight, we support each other." He smiled softly. "I was supposed to get a new little brother this morning, actually."

"New brother?"

"Yeah. A rookie, fresh out of the Academy. Got his party set up in the West Office and everything. We called him and gave him an order to stay put—oughta keep the newbie away from the worst of it, you know?" Jensen shrugged. "I haven't met him yet, but I hear he's a 'golden boy', perfect scores, perfect everything. Marvin—Lieutenant Branagh—was looking forward to getting him."

Rae hugged her knees close. It sounded like Jensen had mixed feelings about the new guy. At the very least, he was apprehensive. Was he worried that the new 'golden boy' would outshine him? Rae could see the self-doubt lining her new friend's face. She didn't want to pry, though. It wasn't her place to put his insecurities on display. So, she changed the subject.

"If you could wish for anything, what would it be?" It was a silly question, like something out of a Cosmo quiz. She'd wish for the apocalypse to be over, or maybe for her mother back. It was an easy answer for her. Jensen's answer came to him immediately.

"I want to keep everybody safe. I want everybody to be happy, no matter what."

Making everybody happy, no matter what. She liked that thought. The person sitting beside her cell was one of those rare genuinely good people. Rae understood why he'd smiled so much during her initial checkup. It'd really been to cheer her up. And she'd thought he was flirting. She suddenly felt like a complete idiot. How was she supposed to know the difference? It's not like guys usually flirted with her or anything. She sighed. After this blew over she was going to start dating, maybe make some more friends. At least she could make an effort to be a sociable human being.

"You?"

"Well, I was going to wish for something selfish. Now I feel a little silly in comparison."

Jensen rolled his eyes. "It can't be that bad. Tell me."

He was so bossy. "Fine. I wanted cool laser eyes. Happy?"

"I absolutely don't believe you."

The two laughed for a moment. It was a nice feeling, laughing and forgetting all of the terrible things that'd happened over the last few hours. Sure, it was a momentary distraction, but a welcome one nonetheless. Ben in the corner looked up at their noisy conversation and huffed. He was busy going through some sort of tape recording, and had been hunched over it for some time now. She wondered if he was even allowed to have it.

The silence was deafening, so she filled it. "I worked at the orphanage. It's a good place." She caught the surprise on Jensen's face. "I was part of this program at SSU called Excellence in Everything. I know, fancy title. Anyway, the program requires me to have at least a part time job. So I got a job there. Dad's old friend was groundskeeper, so I already had a foot in the door."

"What'd you do?"

"Mostly looked after this little boy, Markus. He has a minor learning disability and is mute, for the most part. The matrons like for him to have somebody to support and play with him, help him function. He's actually the one that bit me." Rae hoped that the kids in the orphanage were safe and being looked after. "I hope he's okay."

Jensen looked at her hand curiously. "You said he bit you on your hand?" He made to undo her wrist buckle, but she stopped him.

"It's on the other one. Hold on and I'll wrestle my sling off." She was worried she'd tear through the fragile material. Her arm was stiff and she was careful not to strain her shoulder. Despite the difficulty of moving it, there was surprisingly no pain. Rae allowed him to unbuckle her glove. It was strange, having somebody remove her clothes. Her face instantly turned red. Not in that way, you creep, she chastised herself furiously. The officer pulled her fingers apart, examining the mark. It was still red, though it was nothing compared to what others must've had during this fiasco.

"You said this was a few days ago? This looks older than that. It's almost healed." What had originally been puncture marks from sharp little teeth were now old scabs.

Rae inspected the mark carefully. It looked much better than when she'd checked it earlier. Her mom had been right about Neosporin being a cure-all. "I heal fast. I once stepped on a nail. Was up and running in a few hours with no problems."

Her glove and sling were replaced. She didn't want to leave her arm without support for too long, lest she have to have it popped into place again. Her whole body tensed at the thought. She planned on never getting injured again. At least, she hoped she never did. It'd be just her luck to end up with a stupid broken ankle before the whole disaster was done and gone. She missed the lucky break she'd gotten at the beginning of it all. It was hard to believe that'd only been a few hours ago. Was it only the twenty-fifth?

The two fell into a comfortable, companionable silence. Rae listened to the soothing voice of Jessica from the next cell over. She was talking to the other occupant of her cell, sharing stories about her family. It was sad to hear about the husband she'd lost and the baby she was probably going to never see again. The woman was a blip on Rae's radar. It was strange, meeting new people only to have them fade out of your life so quickly. It was surreal almost. Jessica didn't act like a dying woman. Rae's eyes slid shut and she fended off tears. God, she needed to stop crying. It wasn't helping anybody.

But the tears poured down her face as sobs wrenched their way up her throat. She found herself suddenly bent over, hands fisted in her mother's throw and shuddering violently with each gasp. She cried for Jessica and her baby, for the others in the cells that she'd probably never know, for Miss Vasquez and all her neighbors, for all the people who'd been separated from their loved ones, for her friends who could be gone, for her dad who'd be devastated if she was gone. She cried and cried and cried. She cried until her chest was sore and her face soaked.

She was long overdue for this, she realized distantly, past the gut-wrenching agony. The dam had finally broken and now there was nothing but a flood of emotions so strong they took away all rational thought. If anybody thought any less of her, they didn't say anything. Jensen politely turned away during the episode to give her some semblance of privacy and allow her to mourn. None of this was right! Nothing was right! What the hell could she do in the face of this? Was she supposed to hunker down and wait the storm out, or should she do _something_. She'd never been faced with something on this scale before. What the hell did she know? She was a college student, an inexperienced kid. She felt small and insignificant.

The tears and sobs came less and less frequent as time passed. Rae was only partially aware of the passing of time. They had to have been down there for at least an hour now, maybe more. She wasn't quite sure just how long she'd shut down. She wiped her face off on her black shirt, making a mental note to clean it at some point in time. Jensen was absent from his chair at her cell. She could hear the jangling of keys and occasional murmur, which told her he was probably checking on the others.

Her face hurt.

"Jessica", her voice was hoarse.

"Yeah?" The woman sounded exhausted. Was she beginning to turn or was it simply the events of the day getting to her?

"I just wanted to make sure you're okay." She wanted to make sure the woman was still alive.

"I'm okay. I think my cellmate is sick, though."

Rae's heart clenched and she took a deep breath. "If he changes, just stay quiet, okay? Don't make a sound."

"Okay", the older woman's voice was quiet, small. She gave a hacking cough.

This was something Rae wasn't equipped to handle at all. Her teeth worried on her lower lip. Her face felt puffy and swollen after crying. She hated the sensation. Officer Jensen eventually finished his rounds and circled back to find his chair. He sat down with a sigh.

"It's gotten quiet." The young man shook his head. "I think something's about to happen."

Rae reached through the cells again, gripping his hand like a vise. "It'll be alright."

"I sure hope so, Miss Colter."

Rae hummed good-naturedly. "You can call me Rae. That way I don't feel like an old lady. How's that sound, Officer Jensen?"

"Only if you call me Kyle." Kyle. She liked that.

"Kyle." She tested it out. "You said you were close to my age. Early twenties?"

"Twenty-two this June, actually. The buddies took me out drinking, since I'd kind of missed that milestone. Didn't have a twenty-first birthday."

"I'm an October baby. Daddy always said I was his little witch. Made the neighborhood boys stay away."

Kyle laughed, muted but still genuine. "Overprotective type, huh?"

"You have no idea. Nobody in Huntsville had the guts to even ask me out. Nothing like a cop dad to keep suitors away." Rae snorted. "Not that I was on anybody's radar, anyway. Weird kid in school." She pointed to herself jokingly.

"Well, now I have to take you on that coffee date. We'll make it a first." Kyle winked at her and she found herself not disliking the idea. She wasn't even sure if he was serious, but she'd take it. If this was flirting, she could handle it. "So, were you the kid who always brought pet bugs to school or something?"

"God, no. Bugs are gross! I've just never really liked people. Always been quiet. And nobody at school really shared my interests. They were too busy worrying about trends, makeup, boys, whatever." While she hadn't been bullied, she'd been thoroughly ostracized from everything. Nobody wanted the weird cop kid in on their fun. Rae shook off her high school memories. She directed a smirk at her new friend. "I bet you were pretty popular in school, huh? Looks like yours, I bet you were… captain of the swim team?" He had the slender build of a swimmer.

"Competitive Drama, actually." Way off. Darn. "And what do you mean 'looks like mine'? Are you trying to say something _Miss Colter_?"

"Absolutely not", Rae vehemently denied.

"I wasn't really popular in school, either. I got picked on a lot for living in an orphanage, having ratty clothes. I didn't like people, either. Hated them, actually. Part of that whole 'the world's against me' phase that all teenagers go through at some point." He shrugged. "Things got better when my mom adopted me."

"Tell me about your family."

"Need to know about potential in-laws, huh?" She pinched the skin of his hand in revenge. "Ouch! Already an abusive spouse, I see." He chuckled. "Mom picked me up at sixteen. Not a lot of people will take in a teenager—just asking for problems. She was already getting on in years, but she hadn't been able to have kids of her own. Despite that, her house was never empty. Always spoiled her nieces and nephews absolutely rotten, and they were over all the time. Loved them all. Especially Kimmie; she's the one who went to SSU. A really smart cookie.

"Anyway, Mom was bound to a wheelchair. I was working some crappy part-time gig as a cashier for Wal-Mart. Apparently, she had this reputation at that store for being a trouble maker, so I got to deal with her. Got goaded into walking her bags out. Helped her with her stuff, dropped her milk on the ground, she threatened to run my toes over if I didn't get her more. It was pretty heated for a while, but she remembered me from then on. Always teased me about 'crying over spilt milk' when she came in. Eventually she found out about my home life. The rest is history."

"Did you have a dad?"

"Nah. She's got too much energy for a man to handle. Don't let the wheelchair fool you—she's a loose cannon. I love her, though. She's a good person; can't wheel past Boy Scouts without buying all their popcorn. Don't even get me started on the Girl Scout cookies, either."

Rae smiled at the fond way he spoke of his adoptive mother. She seemed like a fun person, if not a bit wild. Talking obviously brought out good memories for the young man, if his wide smile was any indication. She rubbed her thumb on his hand, finding comfort in it. Her first crush and she was holding hands with him through the bars of a jail cell. And their first date would be her inspecting his right nipple after they went out for drinks. Oh, what a pair they'd make. She smiled, happy. If they made it out of this, she was going to ask him out for real.

"I was serious about drinks by the way." Kyle surprised her, yet again, by reading her mind "If—when—we get out of here, I'm going to take you out, Rae. We're going to this place I know in the next town over, where they may or may not serve alcohol to people under the legal age." He snorted. "I'm going to show you the state of Wisconsin and we're going to stay up all night forgetting that zombies are real. How does that sound?"

"I… I really like the sound of that." But Rae felt self-conscious. "But why me? I mean…"

"Well, you're cute. And you're a little looney, but that's just my type." He smiled brightly. Rae had never been anybody's type before. All it had taken was the apocalyptic end of the world, apparently. She felt happy, despite that. Here was this very handsome officer, with a kind heart and troubled past. And he was asking her out. God, her dad would love him. Well, once he got past the shock of her bringing a boy home, death threats and all. She could almost picture it.

"I don't think I really have a type", she murmured. "But I imagine you'd fit it pretty well if I did."

"You're incredibly awkward, you know that?"

"Yes. I am aware."

The jail cells grew quieter and quieter as the early morning turned to daylight. Despite the world falling apart around them, they continued talking to each other. It was a nice distraction to forget about the people around her slowly dying, about the world outside ending. Rae talked to him until the exhaustion of the previous night caught up to her. She fell asleep with her knees to her chest, swathed in her beloved blanket.

:.:

Rae woke up sometime around five in the evening. She felt stiff and filthy. Despite sleeping twelve hours, she was still absolutely exhausted. Kyle filled her in on what she'd missed, though none of it was good news. Everybody had changed. She wasn't surprised by this revelation in the slightest, though her body was still heavy. The young man sat in the chair he'd claimed next to her cell. He'd cried a little bit, shoulders shaking as he did. Rae did her best to offer comfort, though she wasn't sure how helpful she was.

After their mutual breakdowns, they'd been pulled back into reality by Rae's stomach protesting loudly. She hadn't eaten at all since the day before, though it had seemed like much longer. And her dinner had been popcorn, too. Not even a real meal. Rae was embarrassed at her tummy's needy gurgles, though Jensen seemed to find them amusing.

He chuckled at her expense, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright. No need to growl at me; I'll see if I can't snag you any grub."

Rae rolled her eyes. "Drama queen."

"That's 'King', thank you very much." The man walked back towards the control room, through the cell block. Rae noticed that he did his best to remain silent and not to get close to the cell doors. Despite this, the infected occupants still lunged for him. Their screeches were terrible to listen to. It made her stomach turn, knowing that these creatures had been living, breathing people a few hours earlier. Rae thought of Jessica for a moment.

The young man returned with food, a weary look on his face. He offered her a very familiar can of pineapples with the top removed. "Why, Officer Jensen…offering me my own food?"

"Only the finest for our esteemed prisoners." His voice shook and his joke was lukewarm at best, but she appreciated it.

She smiled at him and thanked him, digging into the canned fruit. She put the food away in record time, suddenly feeling ravenous. It was enough to make her feel a little self-conscious when she noticed the officer watching her, amused. Well, she was hungry. What else did he expect? She frowned when she saw the bottom of the can. It hadn't quite hit the spot like she'd hoped it would. But it'd be selfish to ask for more food, especially since there were more mouths to feed above. She actually found herself craving meat, despite everything that'd happened. Hell, she never thought she'd want it again. Maybe it was because she'd done so much last night?

Rae deposited the can in the floor and stretched her body. The stiffness had faded a bit, but it wouldn't go away completely until she actually did something other than bumming on the prison cot. She was thirsty, but she eyed the sink with distaste and thought better about using it. The thing was absolutely filthy. Jensen was quick to offer her some bottled water, stating that the tap wasn't really good for drinking anyway, something about old pipes. Nothing quite like lead poisoning to take you out during the zombie apocalypse. She snickered at her own internal joke and downed the bottle. The liquid slid down her throat, cool and refreshing. God, she needed to take better care of herself.

The former college student noted that Jensen sported terrible bags under his eyes. Had he been up the entire time? Well, she supposed he probably wasn't in any state to sleep. Emotionally, the man was probably overwhelmed. And it wasn't particularly safe in a basement infested with zombies, despite the fact that they were behind iron bars. Anything could happen.

"Is there any way you could swap out with somebody and sleep?"

Kyle closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, drained of energy. "Hobbs is coming to relieve me after he feeds and waters the dogs." The K-9 handler, she guessed. She felt bad for not remembering the man's name.

"Do you guys even have a place to sleep?"

"The Break Room has a few bunk beds in it. With this many officers operating around the clock, though, Tyson has a pretty strict schedule down. Gotta wait my turn or he'll throw a tantrum." He chuckled.

"Yeah. Wouldn't want to get your butt kicked by the old guy." She was careful to keep her voice down. Her eyes spotted a zombie wandering in the cell off to the side. Her teeth nibbled on her lower lip. "That'd be embarrassing."

The handsome cop was staring rather intently at her. "So, I have to ask: what's the story with the…?" He gestured to his left eye. "The eye thing?"

Her fingertips found her own eye. She wondered if it was getting worse. While it hadn't really raised any suspicion or worry, it wasn't particularly pretty. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and her left eye was really creepy looking. Well, in her opinion anyway.

"High blood pressure?" Rae shrugged. "I dunno."

Jensen shrugged and stared off into space. The disgruntled groans of caged zombies kept them on edge. Everybody seemed to have turned at the same time. Rae wondered if the process took a similar time for everybody, or if there were delaying factors. Would people of radically different ages change at radically different paces? Would it kill a perfectly healthy person off faster than one with a chronic illness? It was morbid to think about, but knowledge was all they could use to fight off this unknown. Knowledge was power, after all.

Kyle's radio buzzed from time to time, signaling that the other officers were still active. From what she heard, they were busy setting up more permanent sleeping quarters for everybody and getting the station reinforced. Good. She hoped that they'd start boarding up windows to keep unwanted creatures out. If they could secure the place, they might be able to last through the worst of the apocalypse. Maybe the zombies would rot until they were no longer able to move? Maybe the military was clearing the city out as they waited? But if the military became overwhelmed, what then? Rae frowned and rubbed her injured shoulder. It was beginning to throb again now that the medicine had worn off.

The two waited for a long while, and Kyle was starting to get impatient. His foot tapped on the concrete floor with increasing fervor. He tilted his head back with a sigh. Rae smiled at his antics, happy that he still had the energy to pout. She'd really taken a liking to him, with his chipper attitude and energy. She wondered how a date with him would be. Was he the hopeless romantic type, like from her movies? Or was he suave? She imagined that he was probably less into cheesy one-liners and more into cracking slightly inappropriate jokes. At least it wouldn't be awkward, not with the whole 'hey, we survived the apocalypse together' shared history. Well, she hoped it wouldn't be awkward.

Tired of waiting, he pressed the button on his receiver. "Jensen to Hobbs. Can I get an ETA, Hobbs?" Nobody answered. Kyle frowned at tapped his electronics, probably hoping that a little percussive maintenance would do the trick. She'd once fixed her television that way. "Can I have an ETA for Hobbs? This is Jensen in the cells. Waiting for relief." Hobbs didn't respond.

Rae's eyebrow arched. "That's… weird. Maybe his radio's busted?"

Kyle sighed and got up. "Dunno. But I gotta go check on him. Big dummy might've forgotten to put new batteries in or something."

Rae felt something stirring in her gut. The whole thing gave her a bad feeling. Surely they were in the clear? After all, the infected were locked safely away and the station was being sealed off. So why was she suddenly so on edge? Because whenever somebody's communication was cut off in movies, it usually meant they were dead. That was the popular trope, after all. Could Hobbs have been killed? Kyle turned away to leave. Rae caught his hand.

"Wait!" The cop gave her an odd look. "Isn't it a really bad idea to go off by yourself right now? Take somebody with you."

A helpless look clouded his blue eyes. "Everybody above is busy prepping. Besides, Hobbs' space is just across the parking garage. I don't need an escort."

He was a stubborn one. Rae rolled her eyes. Rule Number One was 'never go off by yourself'. She wished she had a diagram to convince him that it was a bad idea, but she was fresh out of pocket-sized pie charts. "What if something happened to Hobbs? What if it's not just a radio thing? You should be prepared for every eventuality, just in case it's a worst case scenario." That was something her dad had laid on thick during her tween years: Expect and prepare for the worst, so nothing will catch you off guard.

"Aw… are you worried about me, Rae?" Yes, you idiot. Rae glared at him and he winked in response.

"Against my better judgement, yes."

"You can come with me, if you're that worried." His keys jangled together as he searched for the right one.

"Me? Aren't you worried that I'm infected?"

"Not really. You'd have changed five hours ago like everybody else did. Besides, you're better company than Ben over there." He jerked his thumb over to where the journalist was smoking up against his cell bars.

The journalist flipped them off and hollered a succinct, "Fuck you".

He opened her door and allowed her to step out. She folded her mother's blanket up neatly and placed it back into her duffel bag. If they were moving, she was taking it with her. Her shoulder was a bit sore, but nothing that she couldn't handle. A full night—er, afternoon—of sleep had done her good, it seemed. Rae ducked under the young cop's outstretched arm and he let the cell door fall closed with a 'thud'. The young woman winced as the noise stirred the undead up, prompting them to walk to their cell openings with outstretched hands.

Jensen was extremely calm about the whole situation. He was in full 'Cop Mode', as her dad called it. The young officer leaned in close and wrapped an arm around her. She resisted the urge to freak out. He was suddenly _way_ too close. It gave her an idea of just how much taller he was than her, and also how fit he was beneath his shirt, but we won't get into that. Rae's poor face burned as he led them past the zombies' grasping claws. She turned into Jensen's blue uniform when Jessica's contorted face pressed against cell bars. Was everybody that she talked to destined to die?

After passing through the holding cells, Jensen cleared his throat and released her from his grip. He was a bit red in the face as well. At least they could be horribly embarrassed together. She noticed that his hand had been firmly resting on his firearm during the entire trip. It comforted her a bit. The two passed by the control booth, where cameras overlooked the cells. Jensen gave them a quick once over and made sure his area was secure before leaving it. Rae hovered awkwardly behind him as radioed the Lieutenant and let him know their situation.

None of the news was good, given that Hobbs had gone silent and all of the prisoners except two had turned. The ebony-skinned man's frustration was palpable even through the static of the walkie. Jensen sighed and clicked off the static, just as Branagh began issuing orders to the rest of the police officers. It sounded like everybody upstairs was busy. Jensen had been right; they wouldn't have any hands to spare, not with civilians needing protection. Still, it seemed cold to leave a fellow officer in the dark, alone. Well, in the dark with only a civilian to help.

Rae heard strange sounds coming from the parking garage. First, it was a barely-there shuffling. Then, it was a distinct guttural growling sound. Rae's blood froze in her veins as a howl permeated the air. The sound was thick and full of agony. Jensen's pistol was unholstered in an instant, and trained on the door of the parking garage.

"D-do you think the dogs got loose?" Rae's voice shook.

"Sounds that way. Stay behind me."

Jensen leaned against the door, opening it the slightest bit and peering around. He checked in all directions before turning to her. "I think it's clear."

Just then, a horrible series of barks sounded. The young woman let out a strangled scream as a dog's muzzle tried to push in through the crack in the door. The thing was dripping blood and covered in terrible wounds. Jensen pulled the door shut with all his strength and stared at it in quiet disbelief. The monster on the other side pawed at it for a moment, snarling wildly.

"What the fuck was that?"

"Zombie dogs?" White-hot terror lanced through her. Rae couldn't believe it. How had the dogs been infected? Surely Hobbs would've said something about one of his animals being injured. Oh, God. Hobbs was probably dead. The young woman's breathing was heavy. Hadn't she said something about this happening? This was the worst case scenario.

"Shit." Kyle's response was short and sweet. Rae agreed wholeheartedly.

The two waited until the sound stopped altogether. Kyle sighed in relief and pressed the button on his radio. Branagh wouldn't be happy to hear about this. Then again, it wasn't exactly on the top of anybody's wish list.

"Lieutenant Branagh. This is Jensen. Got a situation in the parking garage." Complete understatement. "The dogs have changed. Hobbs is presumed Dead. We need backup!"

Branagh's voice cut in. "Repeat that, Jensen."

Kyle gave a sigh of frustration. "Hobbs is presumed dead. K-9 unit is infected. I have two civilians to evacuate. Send backup!"

The radio buzzed. Branagh spoke. "Talbot and Reyes have been dispatched to help. Where are you now?"

"The cell block. Be careful; they're in the parking garage."

"Will do, Jensen. Be prepared to evacuate in ten minutes."

Rae was barely aware of the conversation, though. Her wide eyes were fixated on where she'd seen the dog's deformed maw disappear. It brought to mind a memory that she'd rather be left buried—of huge teeth sinking into her lower calf and a dog's angry growls. Her grandfather had once owned a big dog, a mutt of some sort. He'd always been a gentle giant, Rae's cuddle buddy. Until one day he'd gone nuts and sank his teeth into her five-year-old leg. His brain had started swelling. She'd been terrified of dogs for years afterwards. Even now, the big ones made her nervous. Zombie dogs? They were her worst nightmare come to life. She held herself, breathing heavly.

The screech of meta-on-metal sounded from somewhere in the cellblock. Jensen suddenly stared behind them. His eyes went wide and he whipped his pistol around. He pulled Rae behind him and pressed her against the closed door of the parking garage. His voice was shaking as he responded. "We don't have ten minutes, Marvin. They're in the vents." That's how they'd been getting around!

There was a large vent just inside the control room for the jail. Rae watched in horror as the metal cover bent and contorted under heavy weight. A dog's insistent barking sounded from the other side, warped and gurgling in a way that would haunt her nightmares for years after this. Rae's hands fisted into the fabric of Kyle's uniform shirt. What was she supposed to do against zombie dogs?!

"Rae." Officer Jensen spoke calmly, despite the situation. "Do you hear any sounds coming from the garage?"

"We can't go out there, either! We'll—"

"Rae!" The admonishment was soft but firm. "Do you hear anything?"

The young woman closed her eyes and tried to ignore the sounds of her own heavy breathing. "I think it's quiet. I don't hear anything. But that doesn't mean it's safe!"

The vent cover gave another strained groan as the creature on the other side tried to break through. "That won't hold forever. We need to go. Now!"

Kyle whirled around and opened the door, just as the cover finally gave way. Rae caught only a glance at the half-devoured flesh of the zombie Doberman before there was a door separating them from it. She covered her mouth and let out a series of quick breaths. Zombies were slow, stupid. The dogs, on the other hand, seemed to be incredibly fast. They wouldn't be able to avoid them carefully. They were going to die! The monster on the other side snapped and snarled at the obstacle, shaking the door a bit in its frame.

"We need to get moving. There's no telling how many of them got loose. If we're lucky, it was just that one." Rae didn't need a fortune teller to let her know that luck _wasn't_ on their side. She froze like a deer in the headlights. Her legs were jelly and wouldn't move. Why was she getting scared _now_? For the first time since the apocalypse started, her mind was hazy and clouded by terror. There was nothing rational in her head. Nothing remained of 'Rae' except her own fear.

"I-I can't move." Her voice was small. She trembled.

"No. Nonono. You were brave enough to get to the station. You didn't even flinch at the zombies earlier. You aren't shutting down on me now!" He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.

Rae swallowed thickly. "There's a dog." It had slinked out of the shadows and was approaching them, baring its teeth. "Oh, God! OhGodohGodohGod…. We're going to die."

Officer Jensen shook too. He placed himself between her and the approaching threat. He raised his weapon. Behind them, the other dog continued its assault on the door. Rae wished she had control of her left arm, so she could swing her machete. She struggled with unbuckling the leather strap holding the weapon in place. Her fingers were frozen with fear, useless. Stop freaking out, she screamed at herself. Stay calm! They were only dogs! Well, they were dogs infected with some sort of zombie virus. She tried to calm her breathing, but found herself hyperventilating further. Her own history with big dogs replayed in her mind again.

The zombie dog leapt at them, but the officer was quick to pull the trigger, filling the thing with three bullets and putting it down—at least, temporarily. "J-just like skeet shooting", he quipped shakily. He pressed his hand insistently into her lower back and began leading her through the parking garage. "We need to keep moving! Once we get past the electronic door, they shouldn't be able to follow us."

Rae was along for the ride, being tugged by him. Blood was all over the floors and walls of the next hallway. They'd been free for quite some time. She felt herself getting lightheaded. How long had she and Jensen been pleasantly talking while his colleagues were being mauled to death in the next room? Instead of leading her at her back, Kyle moved to grip her hand instead. She clutched it like a lifeline and used it to ground herself. It took all she had to remain upright. She felt like an idiot. Sure, she'd waded through a veritable horde of zombies with little more than a can of creamed corn as backup, but a few dogs were too much to handle? Fear wasn't rational.

A man's yell echoed in the hallway around them, as well as the frenzied barks and howls of the dog still in their kennel. At least, Rae hoped with a shiver, they better still be in the kennel. They both stiffened at the explosion of noise around them. So there was another person still alive down there? It had sounded like it came in the direction of the Morgue. The metal door ahead of them was blocked off with furniture. They'd tried to keep the infected barred off. Unfortunately, it meant they'd have to circle around the Kennel if they wanted to investigate. Rae's stomach rolled at the thought.

They were close to the electronic door whenever two officers burst through. The pretty blond woman and the heavy-set man Kyle greeted as 'Talbot' and 'Reyes'. So, this was their backup. Rae breathed a sigh of relief. They ducked into the shooting range, mostly sure that it was safe from any zombie dogs. There were not vents big enough to carry them. Why the hell had vents that big been installed in the parking garage anyway?! It was like the asshole architect was anticipating this to happen!

Talbot carried a rather impressive looking riot shotgun and she looked like she knew how to use it. Reyes, on the other hand, had a police shield. Branagh had sent them down prepared, at least. Rae tried to calm herself. These two were far better equipped to handle the situation than a rookie cop with a handgun and his terror-struck charge.

Jensen updated his fellow officers while she sat down in the firing range's little office. She peered out the windows at the three people in uniform and sighed. Even now, she shook. She'd honestly forgotten how much big dogs scared her after all these years. In through her nose and out through her mouth, she breathed to calm herself. The door to the office opened and Kyle came in wearing full riot gear. Did they store that in one of the lockers in the range or had the others brought some down? Rae's stomach dropped. He was staying down there with the dogs. To investigate that scream, most likely.

He dropped onto his knee in front of her with a sigh. "We're going to stay down here and look for survivors. See if we can't get Ben out of his cell, too. We can't leave him behind without food and water." He ran a hand through his hair. He'd lost his hat in their mad dash through the parking garage. "You're going to go upstairs and speak to Tyson. Tell him what's going on."

Rae shook her head at him. "If you stay down here, you'll die. One bite and you're done. Those dogs are too fast!"

Officer Jensen's eyes hardened. "I took a vow when I became an officer to save everybody I can. If there's another person trapped down here, I'm going to make sure they get upstairs. What if that was you?" He gripped her hands between his tightly.

She'd be selfish and want somebody to save her. Rae bit down on her lip and looked away from his expressive blue eyes. She gnawed until she tasted something metallic. Still, she wanted to be selfish now and keep him safe. She'd grown close to him; he was her friend and maybe something more. Wasn't it okay to want him to stay? But he wouldn't. It wasn't in his nature. She shifted in her seat.

Kyle placed a hand on her cheek and forced her to look at him. "I'm going to lock the door behind you so those things can't get to the station. If we don't make it back, forget about us. Help keep the people upstairs safe."

Rae felt helpless. Suddenly, she was on that fence again, staring down at Miss Vasquez. "I've already had one person close to me turn, Kyle. Please come back." She felt tears pull in her eyes. "I want to get through this with you. You promised to show me Wisconsin and help me forget that zombies exist, and—"

She was surprised when warm lips cut her off. It was so abrupt that she didn't have time to close her eyes. Her mouth dropped open and she stared at him blankly, unsure how to react. He let a small chuckle out at her expense. Jerk! Stealing her first kiss like that! He peered behind them, making sure his colleagues were still caught up. She peered through the window. The two other officers were turned away. Good. Her face was burning.

She was about to protest. Red-faced, she whirled around only to be met with his lips again. This time, they pressed against hers insistently. She gasped in surprise and he took that opportunity to suck on her lower lip. Her eyes slid closed and she let out a low hum at the foreign sensation. His mouth moved against hers, surprisingly soft. She tried to keep up with him, clumsily at first then gaining confidence. His tongue snaked out to meet hers and she surprised him by biting down on the tip gently. He chuckled against her mouth.

They pulled apart panting. His eyes were darkened by some unreadable emotion that made her throat tighten a bit. Wow. She'd never seen that look before. Kyle's eyes slid closed and he took a deep breath, collecting himself. When the blue orbs opened again, they seemed to look normal. Rae found that at some point she'd tangled her fingers through his blond hair, and unlaced them from the soft strands. That had been… wow. She fidgeted with her fingers and looked down in embarrassment. He'd shut her up good. Now, she didn't have anything to say.

"Now you have round two to look forward to when I get back," the man quipped smugly.

She stuck her tongue out at him, only to pull it back when he motioned to bite it. Jerk! He gave her a somewhat strained smile and pressed his lips against her forehead, lingering there for just a moment before backing away. It broke her heart, knowing that this was possibly that last time she'd see him. Her fingers clenched onto his outfit and she rested her chin on his shoulder. Even sitting down he was much taller than her. She'd become so attached to this man in such a short time. She wanted him to come back to her safe. Tears pooled in her eyes.

Kyle cleared his throat and handed her a folded piece of paper. "This is my mom's number." His adoptive mother, who'd pulled him from the orphanage and raised him the best she could've despite being confined to a wheelchair. He'd been sixteen, shy and distrustful. But she'd managed to love him with her whole heart. "If anything happens, call her. Tell her I love her, okay?"

Rae took the paper, trembling. "I will."

She surprised herself by leaning upwards and pressing a shy kiss against his lips. He laughed and pulled her into a tight hug. "I'm going to make it back. Just wait for me. I've already decided I'm going to marry you when this is all over, Rae Colter. We'll go to a drive-through chapel in Vegas and have Elvis officiate. Then we'll honeymoon at The Flamingo, win big." He joked to lighten the mood. She slapped his chest.

"You better get me a nice ring to make up for all of this," she went along with his madness.

He looked at her solemnly, hand over his heart. "I'll steal Queen Victoria's crown jewels and put them on a band."

She hadn't even known him a full day and they were joking about marriage. It was almost like going to pick out a wedding cake on the first date. Or looking at furniture. She smiled, despite herself. He really was a nut. Rae let him pull away. He had a job to do. If Reyes or Talbot thought anything about what had just happened in the office, they didn't say anything about it.

The two officers smiled warmly at her and she offered a shy wave in return. Reyes had rosy red cheeks, and perfectly fit the image of a stereotypical jovial cop. He was even snacking on some sort of cereal bar. Talbot, on the other hand, looked to be a stern working woman. While she had a kind lilt to her lips, the way she held herself was all business. These two weren't just some passing characters in a movie, sacrificial pawns to move the plot along. They were real people with real hopes and real dreams and real families. And they'd come down to mount a rescue operation to save others just like them. She would've liked to have known them better, Rae realized. They might not come back.

The small group exited the Firing Range with Reyes's shield at the front and Talbot's shotgun at the rear. They could hear the dogs going absolutely ballistic in the Kennel next door, causing Rae to shrink into Kyle's warmth. She pulled her duffel bag closer against herself and wished for the hundredth time that her left arm wasn't injured. Her hand itched to be wrapped around the handle of her machete. He kept close to her, though she noticed he was a more respectful distance away. Probably hoping to remain professional in front of his peers.

The electronic door would take her upstairs, where she'd meet up with Officer Tyson. It was marked by a green light above, showing that it was unlocked. She gave her new friends one final look and stepped through. Her heart raced, her stomach rolled. She swallowed thickly to quell the rising panic. They might not come back. Her eyes caught Kyle's and he gave her a reassuring smile.

Officer Talbot offered a calming, "We'll be back soon. Don't worry."

Reyes saluted her jokingly.

Kyle winked at her. "See ya on the other side!"

The door closed heavily, leaving her alone in the downstairs hallway. She heard the lock click with a sort of finality. Rae didn't break down. She stared at the door, completely numb. For the first time since entering the station, she was completely and utterly alone. It should've been a scary thought, but Rae wasn't bothered in the slightest. She felt like maybe she'd left a piece of herself behind the door.

Her heart dropped when she heard the distinct sound of gunfire from the other side. She dropped to her knees and pressed her ear against the door, hoping to glean some valuable information about what was occurring on the other side. Please make it back, she prayed. She wasn't quite sure how long she was waiting before Officer Tyson came down and found her there, staring blankly at the door. Bile burned hot in her throat as a terrible realization occurred to her. They weren't coming back.

:.:

_To Be Continued…_

:.:

**A/N:** Aaaand there's Chapter 4! Keep an eye out for 5, which is about halfway through at the time of posting this one. Also, as an apology for the repeat, we'll be getting our first glimpse of the daily life of one Leon Kennedy! Again, sorry, but drastic times call for drastic measures. Thanks to xXxRena-MariexXx for showing this story a little love!

**Reviewers:  
**White Alchemist Taya: Glad you like the backstory! I was worried that people would be bored since Claire and Leon haven't shown up yet. I know OC stories can really drag and I definitely didn't want that to happen with this one. It's my goal to shed some light on what exactly went down at the police station, so if you have any suggestions or theories, let me know. Also, Rae's healing is just a fill-in… or is it? We shall see. As always, thanks for your feedback!  
Scottusa1: I'm trying to leave the station exactly as it was at the start of the game, meaning that I'm going to have to explain a lot of stuff. Wow. Maybe this is a big undertaking? Always looking for a bit of headcanon as to what happened at the police station before Resi 2. Let me know if you had any theories, because I want to see what everybody makes of the clues left scattered. As always, thanks for your feedback!

_Thank you to all who've put me and this story on Alert or Favorite. Love you guys!_


	5. Toast

Toast

**Rating:** M**  
Warnings: **Violence, Language, Drug/Alcohol References/Abuse, Mild/Explicit Sexual Content**  
Disclaimer:** All properties related to the Resident Evil/Biohazard series belong to Capcom. Any other products are the intellectual property of their respective owners.**  
A/N: **Chapter 5 out! And our first glimpse of Leon and Claire! This chapter will mark the start of rotating POVs, though Rae will still be the main mouthpiece for this story. The POV shift will hopefully be easy to pick up on, since I want everything to be as smooth as possible. Let's get this show on the road!

:.:

Rae had developed the terrible habit of biting her nails when she started school. The social anxiety caused her to gnaw them down into nothing over and over again. Her mother had tried nail polish, tape, and hot sauce to keep her from chewing. Rae's mom had the prettiest red nails. It was the only thing the woman was ever vain about. Her mom had never got to see her outgrow the disgusting habit. Rae still kept her nails bright red. For the first time in ten years, she'd bit them to the quick. The zombie apocalypse would do that to you.

Rae Colter sat shivering under her mother's throw blanket. She'd been given a cot to sleep on, though she doubted she'd be using it for a while. Every nerve in her body was alive. She waited impatiently for news of her friend and his companions to pop up. Maybe they'd radio in? Maybe they'd show up, none the worse for wear, with Ben in tow? Maybe they were already dead? She hugged her knees close to her chest, careful not to strain her injured arm too much. Lieutenant Branagh, the only other person she was familiar with, was in the West Hall doing something important. She'd made sure to steer clear of him for a while. At the very least, to avoid the looks of pity he shot at her when she first entered the Main Hall escorted by Officer Tyson. He hadn't said anything, but she could read it clearly in his eyes.

So far, her terrible luck had claimed no less than four victims: Nina Vasquez, Officers Reyes and Talbot, and Kyle Jensen. Her heart ached a bit when his energetic blue eyes and sweet smile crossed her mind. They'd formed a fast friendship in only a few hours, and Rae had developed a wicked crush on the charming young man. Well, it was apparently mutual. Rae remembered their kiss in the basement office and groaned pathetically into her knees. She should've begged him to stay. Then she looked down sadly. No, that wouldn't have done anything. He'd had an unwavering sense of duty. He never would've stayed while somebody was in danger nearby. It would've been selfish of her to ask. Still, she missed him and hoped he'd return miraculously unharmed.

She _was_ selfish, though. Here she was, feeling self-pity over a guy she'd known a little over twelve hours. Other people had lost their entire lives and families, friends and soulmates. Was it okay to grieve somebody you didn't know well? Was it presumptuous to feel like this was real grief? She was probably overthinking it, just like she did everything else. Sighing, she looked up at the massive clock on the wall. Eight. Reyes, Talbot, and Kyle had been gone for over two hours now. It was likely they wouldn't be coming back. She'd waited to cry again, like she always did. There were no tears or sobs. She was completely numb and tired.

In the few hours she'd been gone, the police had done an admirable job of setting up the station as a home. Cots lined the hallways until they could break down the offices. The East that she'd walked through with Tyson had boasted a fair number of people, who's already unpacked their meager belongings and turned the place into something resembling a home. The injured were placed in the main Hall to be monitored. Rae, injured shoulder and all, got her own cot. The burn victim form earlier was sleeping fitfully near the main entrance. Rae had seen the doctor once again, treating some poor fevered man in the East Hall.

Near her own cot, a few children played at the feet of the Goddess Statue. She'd been put on the landing with a large family. Miraculously, both parts of the couple and all their five kids had made it to safety. They were incredibly lucky. Rae was happy that at least one success story had occurred during this terrible disaster. The youngest of the group was a little over two years old with cheeks that hadn't yet shed their baby fat. The oldest was a teenage girl with pretty dark hair who bore a fondness for pink. Despite their closeness in age, Rae didn't have any energy to strike up conversation with the girl. She was tired in a way that words couldn't describe.

At that moment, the youngest fell, landing hard on the marble tile. He was silent for a moment, then began wailing. The mother tutted and picked him up, shushing him. She'd warned him several times to be careful. Toddlers didn't listen, though. They were always off in their own little world. Rae wondered what she'd been like as a little one. Her dad had always commented that Rae was quiet growing up, but quiet and well-behaved weren't necessarily the same thing. Maybe she was a little trouble-maker? She smiled fondly at the thought. She missed her dad.

A good portion of her time had been spent wondering what to do now that she was out of her cell. Obviously she wanted to call her father, since he was probably worried sick. She also was highly aware of the paper burning a hole in her leather pack. Kyle's mom was somebody she wasn't looking forward to calling. How was she supposed to tell the woman that her baby was possibly gone forever? She felt like it'd be a slap in the face coming from her, a woman who she'd never met or heard of. Maybe she should let Lieutenant Branagh call Kyle's mother to notify her; after all, the man had been his brother in blue. Rae also wanted to see if she couldn't reach her friends. Maybe they' managed to take shelter? The phones of the station had gone eerily silent. Still, she didn't want to bother the kindly older officer at the front desk.

She took the paper with Kyle's handwriting out of her pocket and smoothed it over. He'd had sloppy handwriting, barely legible. She smiled. It reflected his chaotic energy perfectly. Her own handwriting was neat. She'd often had to fill out the her dad's paperwork, lest some poor government worker be totally unable to read it. Sighing once more, she stood up. She needed to make a call. Hoping that she could use the phones, she made her way over to Officer Ford at the front desk. The older officer was reviewing some sort of file, circling important bits with his pen. She tried not to be too nosey and stare. She cleared her throat, getting his attention.

"Well, hello, Little Miss. What can I do for you?" The officer smiled kindly at her.

She pointed at the quiet phones on the desk. "I was wondering if those are dead?" Not really a great word choice, Rae. "I mean, I was hoping to use one if not."

The officer seemed conflicted between wanting to honor her request and wanting to keep their lines of communication open. He battled with himself internally a moment before relocating one of the phones to the top of the desk were she could reach. She took a moment to think about what exactly she was going to say. Her father was most likely at the office, so she'd get the answering machine. Good. It was better that way, a little easier on her. She just hoped he stayed away from Raccoon City. Anything that'd make that happen, she'd tell him. Her fingers trembled while turning the rotary wheel and entering the familiar phone numbers. It rang several times before the answering machine picked up.

"Hey, Daddy. It's Chevy. I'm sorry; I know you're probably on patrol. So the… um… riots? They reached Murphysboro this evening. It's gotten hectic. I'm fine, though. Nothing I can't handle." Rae looked down in thought. She felt guilty, lying to her father. "I'm safe with Tiffany. We decided to go ahead and stay at Jake's until everything blows over. I'm at a payphone right now; stopped off to give you an update." She was acutely aware of the police officer's gaze fixed on her. She wondered if he was judging her for fibbing. "You know Jake—crazy conspiracy theorist—he doesn't have a phone, so I won't be able to call you for a while. I'll let you know when I'm able to come home. Don't worry about me; we'll be watching movies until everything calms down! Ugh. I have so many that I need to catch up on!" Her voice wavered as she tried to fake enthusiasm. "Anyway. I love you. Say hi to mom for me. And… um… can you please take her some flowers? I don't want her grave getting lonely. Bye, Daddy."

She set the phone down with a sigh. Rae leaned heavily against the counter. At least that'd reassured her dad enough that the man should stay away. Sure, he didn't trust boys, but he probably recognized that Jake's was the safest place to be at the moment. She'd been honest, too—Jake didn't have a phone because he thought the dial tones were hypnotic suggestions used by the government to suppress free thought. Wow. Her friends were weird. At least Tiffany was normal by comparison, despite the fact that she'd made it her goal to sleep with every member of her year's football players. She even had a checklist and everything. Rae dialed Tiffany's home number, not sure if the young woman would answer.

The phone rang and rang until the call finally cut off. God, Rae hoped everybody was safe! It was probably unrealistic to hope for, but Rae needed something a bit outlandish to hold onto. Guiltily, she looked at the paper in her hand with the number for Kyle's mom. She decided not to call; after all, it wasn't her place. She thanked Officer Ford for allowing her to use police property to make private calls. She was sure that in anything other than the end of the world, it would have been a major 'no-no'. He waved her off, telling her that it wasn't a big deal. Honestly, calling her father had brought a sense of closure that she hadn't known she'd needed. She was grateful to the officer for allowing her that much. very easily could've dismissed her and passed her off without a second thought.

The older man eyed her as she lingered at the front desk. He closed the manila folder he'd been inspecting. "Need an ear?"

Rae shrugged. "I think I'm okay, but thanks." The older man didn't look particularly convinced by her statement. "I'm just… going through the motions, I guess?"

Officer Ford's grey eyes stared right through her. "Does this have anything to do with our flirtatious young errand boy?"

Rae jolted, surprised. How did he know? "Um…?"

"Tyson told me. Old men gossip, too, you know?" Ford smiled at her and gave a low chuckle.

Rae stared at the piece of paper in her hand and sighed. "He gave me this number. Told me to call his mom if he didn't make it back. But…" She fidgeted. "I don't think it's right for me to call her. Maybe one of you is better suited?"

"Miss…?"

"Colter."

"Miss Colter, if Officer Jensen hadn't wanted you to call specifically, he would've told you otherwise. The kid bonded with people fast, was part of his charm. I'm sure he considered you a good friend, even if you'd only known each other for a short time." Ford removed his hat, revealing thinning salt-and-pepper hair. "Still, wait as long as you need. You'll want to be in your right mind before you talk to her."

She still felt a bit unsure, but she placed the number back into her pouch anyway. At the very least, she could keep it safe. Ford eyed her for a moment before motioning her to take up the empty seat beside him. She noticed that he didn't have a radio on his person, though it was probably because he was surrounded by phones. It'd be easy to get ahold of the older man if anybody needed him.

The former college student wiggled uncertainly in the wooden stool. Her new companion checked over some more paperwork before he took a seat as well. The two sat together in amicable silence. Rae took the opportunity to size the man up. He had a few pins above his badge which spoke of his storied history with the force. There was a thirty year gold bar, as well as a special honors pin that looked to be quite old. Her dad had some similar honors, though she wasn't quite sure what all of them meant. Charles Colter had once gone over every bit of his uniform with her, rattling off all the bits and pieces that made it up. She'd been a little over six at the time, and much of it had faded form her memory.

The older man surprised her by speaking up. "Eyeing my uniform?" He turned and pointed at his decorated pocket. "This is a history of my time here. Each of these has a special meaning for the officers of Raccoon City. The military decorates more, but us cops have our awards too."

Rae nodded. "My dad had a twenty year pin from Huntsville. I know what some of them mean, but not all."

Officer Ford seemed surprised. "Your dad an officer? Twenty years. That's a while."

"He's been a cop since before I was born. I was practically raised by the force."

Ford chuckled. "Nice to have one of our kiddos here. Glad you made it safe."

"Well, as safe as I could've been, I guess."

The two laughed softly. Rae turned around to eye the clock again. Eight-thirty. The rescue party had been gone for three hours. She curled in on herself and sighed. Kyle's warm smile flashed in front of her mind again. He'd been a friend in a crowd of unfamiliar faces. And now he was probably gone. She wondered if Reyes and Talbot were alright. She hadn't known them, but they'd been nice to her. Even the jerk in the cell near hers, Ben, was on her mind. Hopefully they'd managed to get him food and clean water at least. Her newly-shortened fingernails dug into her arms. She shifted so that her sling no longer dug into the dip of her shoulder.

Ford leaned back in his wooden chair, forcing the thing to give an ominous creak. For a moment, Rae was worried the old man was going to tip out of it. Despite her fears and the obvious age of the chair nothing happened. The cop rocked on two legs for a moment before dropping the abused furniture back down to four. Behind them, the sounds of children playing were a small comfort. This was the first opportunity she'd gotten to see what was behind the massive oak desk. There were many filing cabinets, as well as a few items she was surprised to see. Curious, she reached down and pulled an old typewriter from beneath the desk. It'd collected a bit of dust, but the letter keys were lovingly timeworn, showing that it'd once been used quite often. Between the typewriters and the rotary style phones, it felt like she was in an old crime noir.

"Typewriters?" She planted the giant mechanical contraption on the desk.

Officer Ford chuckled and moved the thing in front of him. He tapped down a few keys. "Yes, Ma'am. These were what we started with, before computers were ever a thing. Used to punch in my reports on these when I was a rookie."

Rae caught the fondness on his face. "Good days," she guessed.

"Very," he responded kindly. "We were in a different building at the time. Back then the police station was a tiny rundown brick building a few streets away and this place was an art museum."

The former college student looked around them. "It's crazy to think this was a museum once. I mean, it's obviously pretty upscale for a station, but it's hard to imagine anybody in this city wanting to go view art."

"That was part of the reason the place shut down: not enough interest in the arts anymore."

"Were there other reasons as well?" Who'd have known that talking about an art museum would've been a welcome distraction?

Ford leaned back and thought for a moment. "Legal disputes, mostly. Found a few counterfeits in the collection. Made bad investments and got into debt." The old cop hummed in his throat. "A shame, that. I loved the museum as a kid." His eyes took on a distant look, like he was delving into his memories.

Rae laced her fingers together and stared down at them. "I would've loved to see it."

"Oh, there are still bits and pieces of the building's history scattered about. Take the Goddess and Lion Statues for example; and there are two others like 'em. If you go into the lobby over there and look up into the second floor, you can get a peek at the Unicorn. There was a Lady in what's now the East bullpen, though she had to be moved into storage to make way for more desks."

"Where'd she end up?"

Ford waved the question off. "No idea, Little Miss. Probably under a tarp with The King in the Art Room."

She blinked, confused. "King? Art Room?"

"There's a room in the East Hall that we use to store any leftover pieces of artwork. There's this great big statue holding a scepter and book that we call 'The King', on account of him looking royal. Only been in the room a couple of times, since it's full of pricey stuff: paintings and carvings."

"Why's artwork still loitering around the police station?"

Ford took a moment to write some more in his folder before answering. Right. She was probably taking up his valuable time. "Some millionaire left art to the museum in his will. It technically became the city's after his passing. Unfortunately, his next of kin got greedy and decided to drench us in legal fees and a lawsuit. Since it's disputed property, it can't leave the premises. So, we stored it away.

"We aren't supposed to bother it, but that doesn't stop us from using The King's book as a rite of passage for the newbies. Some of the spry officers will take it and hide it around the station. We even keep a photo of the statue with the book in case they hide it a little too well. A 'send the rookies out on a hunt for it and hope they find it', kind of thing. If they don't on their first day, it's usually paperwork duty for a week."

Rae laughed. "Ouch." She could picture Kyle on his first day, hunting for a silly book and getting saddled with reports when he didn't find it.

Mischief twinkled in the old man's eyes. "Speaking of, I thought I saw our young Jensen hiding the book somewhere in the Library for our newest brother. Can't say it'll be easy to find this time. Kid was a stinker." Rae's heart tugged at the thought. So, her friend _had_ been the station troublemaker.

The two fell into an amicable silence. Rae was a little lighter than she'd been when they first started the conversation. Occasionally they'd dip into a topic regarding history, and Rae even found that Ford was a fan of old noirs—they'd been his reason for becoming a cop. But mostly they sat next to each other, enjoying the company and listening to the children play. Ford went over his paperwork and Rae helped with what little she could. Before they knew, three hours had passed.

They'd been sitting together when the front desk received a call. Branagh wanted to talk to her. She shivered with anticipation, goosebumps rising on her arms. What could he want? Maybe he had an update about the rescue team? Heart heavy with dread, she went to see him in the West Office. She was surprised to find that he didn't have the corner office. Rather, he was seated at a regular old desk in the bullpen. It really made her wonder where everybody else was. Was the Lieutenant the only one who'd made it to the station after all? That meant Chief Irons must've been killed.

Rae noted the banner that'd been strung up over the desks. 'Welcome Leon'. It must've been addressing the new guy they were supposed to be getting in, the so-called 'Golden Boy'. It made her wonder what the young man was like. There were party hats stacked at the counter that looked into the Lobby, she noted. They'd really been planning a party. Rae crept over to where the Lieutenant was sitting. She felt like an intruder in this whole story. It was strange, feeling like a side character in your own life.

Branagh turned at her arrival and welcomed her stiffly, though it wasn't impolite. She could see the stress beginning to develop in his eyes. It was finally starting to get to him, or maybe it had been for a while and he was just excellent at hiding his feelings. The man gestured for her to take a seat next to him. Uncomfortable, she pulled up a chair. She noted with a bit of amusement that he was using a typewriter, like the one she'd found earlier. The rhythmic clicks were nice to listen to. She found herself mesmerized by the way his fingers click-clacked on the keys.

"We keep them in case the power goes out." Branagh broke through her trance.

"Hm?"

"The typewriters. We keep them on hand for emergency situations. Can't say I ever expected the zombie apocalypse to happen, though. I was thinking the worst case scenario was an earthquake or a tornado. I am sad to say that I was wrong." The man hunched over in his seat, sighing. Then he straightened up and turned his chair fully towards hers. "And I've noticed that you always seem to be in the middle of it."

Rae bristled a little at the accusation. "It's not like I can help it."

"No. I guess you can't." Branagh ran a hand over his tired face. Rae noted the bags under his eyes. Had he even gotten any sleep? "None of us would've chosen this outcome. I've received word on the three officers in the basement. Sent another officer to investigate the door to the Parking Garage. The whole place has been locked down."

Rae swallowed thickly. "They're dead?"

"Reyes radioed in a little after you were escorted back up here by Officer Tyson. Both he and Talbot had been bitten. They'd moved to the Firing Range to regroup before we lost contact. Officer Jensen had been separated from them, but had maintained radio clarity. He managed to get food and water to the other living prisoner before making a tough choice. The infected K-9 unit would be too dangerous to allow them to escape. He shut down the basement generator."

That meant what? That he was trapped down there in the dark with two dying officers and a lot of angry, hungry monsters? Or was he dead as well?

Branagh continued. "When I sent Phillips to investigate, she confirmed that the secondary lock for the basement door was initialized and she couldn't get in, even with a key. The door is electronic, meaning that if no power gets to it…" He trailed off and allowed her to fill in the rest.

"Oh." It was completely inaccessible now. To keep the dogs in and the station safe.

"After that, we lost contact with Officer Jensen as well. The entire team was lost." Branagh's jaw was clenched and his nostrils flared as he took breaths to steady himself. "We tried looking at the security cameras, but the whole thing is closed circuit; they can only be viewed at the control center in the Cell Block. The garage shutter is down, and even if it wasn't there's too much danger involved in going around the station and prying it open."

Why was he telling her this? She was a civilian, not to mention that she'd been a security risk no less than a few hours ago. So she asked him why. She was surprised when he chuckled a little at her expense.

"I have no choice, unfortunately. I need all the information I can get on these things, and you're the only one was aware of the true nature of the problem. I need you to start from the beginning and tell me everything that you know about these creatures. We need to be able to fight them properly."

Rae shifted in her seat anxiously. "Surely I'm not the only one that knew. I mean, there have to have been others that recognized this for what it was."

Branagh shook his head. "Everyone that had close contact was bitten and incarcerated, or didn't get a clear look at their attacker. Most of our evacuees didn't even see a zombie until the incident in the Main Hall. We were only made aware that there was a deadly plague going around, not that it reanimated the dead. You not only saw it happen firsthand, but were able to pinpoint exactly what was going on."

Well, most of that was probably true. Rae tugged nervously on the end of her ponytail. Still, that didn't mean she would be of any help. She'd already told him most of what she knew earlier. "I don't know how much I can help you…"

"Anything you can give."

Rae retraced her steps carefully this time. She spared him no detail and he typed everything from her account on the typewriter. She made sure to give him times as accurately as possible, so he could trace the infection rate. This time, she made certain to be particularly detailed about the behavior of the undead, how they moved and hunted. Branagh was particularly interested when she described their reaction to light and movement, as well as their sensitivity to sound. It was possible that the floodlights outside would attract them, though she hadn't thought of that. He radioed another officer and had them shut down and the front gate secured. For the most part, she was able to talk unimpeded. Every once in a while, she'd be interrupted with a question or observation.

"At the beginning of your encounter, you saw a man mauled and changed in a matter of moments. From Jensen's account of the bitten in the cells, though, we know that changing happens within the span of five-to-eight hours. What do you think is the cause for this discrepancy?"

Rae thought for a moment. She'd been wondering that as well. "I think," Rae began carefully, "that it had to do with the victim's state beforehand. Like, the man in the alleyway was obviously killed by his wounds, same as my female neighbor. Maybe the infection has to kill otherwise healthy people before it can reanimate them? Maybe that's why some times vary so wildly?"

Branagh seemed intrigued by this revelation and typed it all down. "Also, we've seen that bites can transmit the infection. Blood contact. Do we know about other forms of contact? Kissing, sexual intercourse, coughing, sneezing?"

Rae went a little red at that question. That thought was a little embarrassing. "No clue." If the infection could be spread like that, though, it would be impossible to track. Nobody kept tabs on who kissed whom, or if they'd coughed on them lately. It could mean that this thing would be harder to control than she'd originally thought. She stuck her thumb nail into her mouth and chewed it mercilessly. Then she realized what she was doing and quickly removed it. That was a perfect way to actually get infected, idiot, she admonished herself.

"What about the dogs?"

Her face screwed up in thought. "They were fast. Scarily so. And I don't think they had film over their eyes, but I wasn't able to get a good look. They seemed to be pretty easy to down, thought. Officer Jensen was able to incapacitate one in three shots."

Lieutenant Branagh sighed and ran a hand over his tired face. The whole conversation had taken all of his energy, it seemed. Rae felt sympathy for the poor man. One day, you're a cop, the next you're the leader of a post-apocalyptic shelter. She awkwardly patted his shoulder. Beyond that, she had no clue how to comfort him. The man took a moment to collect himself before giving her a tight smile.

"Thank you, Miss Colter. If I have any other questions, I'll call you back in."

Just then, Branagh's radio bussed to life. "Sir, we have a situation."

The man pressed the received to his lips. "Cole, what's going on?"

The woman, Cole responded. "One of the people just went crazy in the East Hall. We need to contain the issue before it spreads."

The two looked at each other. They'd missed one of the infected. Branagh shot up from his desk and Rae was quick to follow him. Whatever was going on, she wanted to see it for herself!

:.:

Leon Scott Kennedy had never wondered where his life would end up. He knew he was going to grow up and become a cop, just like his father before him. His high school sweetheart would be waiting for him at the altar, clad in a white dress. Two little kids would play in their big yard, caged in by a tall privacy fence. Maybe he'd even get a dog? There'd been a plan of some sort. It'd been a goal to move towards, something to pursue with fervor. Unfortunately, things didn't always go according to plan.

The young man restlessly tossed and turned in his bed. The covers were hot and left him feeling uncomfortably sticky despite the cool weather outside. His mobile phone blinked on his bedside table, the only source of light in the room. The little thing seemed to be mocking him, taunting him. He'd had to resist the urge to toss the damn thing in his garbage disposal earlier. It was expensive, he'd reminded himself.

It'd been around three in the afternoon on the twenty-second when Leon had gotten a phone call. He'd been in the middle of his daily workout routine, doing some pushups on the hardwood floor of his apartment. The call had startled him. Somehow, he'd ended up face-first on the floor in a crumpled heap, cursing his luck. Not only that, but he'd lost count. Leon had found it necessary to cool off before answering the call, unless he wanted to sound like a grouchy dick. He'd found that the call was actually from the Murphysboro Precinct in Raccoon City. He was supposed to start that evening, around seven. He'd been given an order to stay away. Apparently there was some sort of crisis happening in the city.

At first, Leon had argued that if there _was_ a crisis in the city, they needed him. Of course, he was a rookie, but he'd graduated at the top of his class. Surely that'd meant something? Despite his pleas, the officer in charge had told him to stay put. Maybe this was their way of telling him that he wasn't good enough, that they weren't sure he'd hold up in a crisis? The thought made him sick and uneasy. Surely he'd already proven himself capable enough time and time again? That had been Tuesday, three days ago. Leon had tried calling again Thursday, worried when no news came from the city. Again, he was told to stay put. It worried him. News outlets from Raccoon City had cited riots as the cause for the order, but Leon knew better. If the whole thing was just riots, they'd have called him in no problem. There was something else going on, something that he wasn't sure about. Then, the news had stopped altogether that morning. The only thing that came from the city was a strange radio talk show that repeated endlessly, talking about the walking dead over and over. Just the kind of stuff you wanted to hear about your workplace, right? It'd made Leon shiver and filled his stomach with dread. He was growing more and more antsy by the day. Not only that, but…

Bleary eyed, he peeked at the bedside alarm clock: midnight. She was late. Again. Amy was his girlfriend of nearly six years. They'd met at the beginning of high school and fallen in love with each other at first sight. Well, he'd fallen head over heels for her. She'd been unsure of a long-term romance, but had come around after he'd taken her to a fancy restaurant in Raccoon City. They'd laughed together all night long, listening to the live band play. It was one of Leon's fondest memories. He could still remember the joy in her green eyes, how her long blonde hair had been styled perfectly, how her best dress fit her snugly.

Amy was one of _those _girls—the ones who care about their physical appearance more than almost anything else. She was always perfectly primped, perfectly styled. Her parents were wealthy enough to feed her vanity. Despite that, she had a good sense of humor and was never rude. The young woman had a large circle of friends who'd testify that she was spunky and sweet, even at her worst. Given that she'd been a cheerleader and he'd been both on the swim and wrestling teams, they were one of the 'all-star' couples in the school. They were both attractive, talented; it made sense that they should be together. Their status had landed them the monarchy at school dances a few times over the years. He'd made Homecoming King and she, Queen, the second year in a row when they'd decided to drive out to a remote backroad and commemorate the occasion. He'd been nervous, scared to mess up. And she'd been an animal, much to his surprise and pleasure. They'd maintained an intensely physical relationship since then.

School had been easy, but real life was much more difficult. Leon had moved out and planned on starting at the police academy in Raccoon City. He'd found it almost impossible to balance their relationship, a job at the local Sonic, and his training. She wanted attention constantly. They fought a lot—he accused her of being clingy and unsupportive; she accused him of being neglectful. After heated arguments, they would make up the only way they knew how: rough, angry sex on almost every surface in Leon's small apartment. It was the intense sort of thing that left them too exhausted to continue being mad at each other. Pillow talk would be tender, emotional and he'd hold her the rest of the night. They'd be on good terms until something set either one off. Rinse. Repeat.

Eventually, he left his fast food job and committed entirely to his goal of becoming an officer. It'd been a grueling process, getting through the academy with top marks. He trained with his firearm until it was second nature and pushed his body past what he'd done even as a high school athlete. It'd been twenty-five weeks of Hell. He'd spent the time applying at different precincts Raccoon City. He wanted to get out of his boring little town and go somewhere that the real hero work happened. His dad had been happy as a small-town cop, but Leon wasn't quite so easily satisfied.

In that time, Amy herself had gotten a job at the local Wal-Mart as a cart pusher. Her parents wanted to teach her the merit of hard work. She'd been humiliated when it was the only place that would hire her on. Working with the public was beneath her, in her opinion. She wanted to work as a clothing designer for a big clothing outlet in the city. Cart pushing was exhausting work that left her windblown and sunburned for little pay. It left her vanity in shambles. Every day she returned to him sweaty, clothing in disarray. He didn't mind, but she did. It'd been another fight when Leon had told her that the real world wasn't going to be nice to her because she was pretty, not like school had been. Amy had screamed at him, told him that she hated that he was perfect at everything he did. He had yelled at her, told her that if she'd actually work for something in her life she might succeed.

That fight had been the worst of their relationship. It'd devolved into hurling insults at each other, followed by Leon putting his fist through the bathroom door. The whole thing had been a blow to his ego, that he'd lost his temper with her. Amy had called him out on it through the door, that maybe he wasn't so perfect after all. She'd been smug enough that he'd wanted to hit her. The thought made him sick and he'd immediately backed off. Then she'd called him a coward who couldn't finish what he started. He hadn't taken the bait. Shame hadn't left him for days. He was supposed to be a cop, a good guy, and he'd let the anger get the better of him.

They'd only recently patched everything up. The reconciliation had been almost as explosive as the fight itself was. Leon had left hand-shaped bruises over her wrists, ankles and thighs. She'd repaid him by shredding his back with her perfectly-manicured nails. The two had lain in his bed together afterwards, cuddling. Amy had cried into his chest, apologizing for egging him on. He'd cried a little himself, holding her close. Their relationship was falling apart and Leon felt like the whole thing was his fault. They'd talked for hours until the sun had risen, mostly about inane little things. Amy wanted a small dog if they got one. Leon was partial to the big ones, but he'd conceded. Leon wanted to stay in Huntsville, though Amy would've preferred the big city. Amy didn't want kids anymore, not after working with the public and seeing how children behave. Neither found that they agreed on much. It was enough to make him realize that their relationship probably wasn't going to last much longer. So he held her close until they both fell asleep. That'd been the last time he'd seen her in over a week, though she'd promised to visit him that Friday. She'd called to tell him that she'd gotten caught up with friends from work. Friday evening had very quickly turned into early Saturday morning.

It was long after midnight when Amy finally came home. While she didn't formally live with him, he'd given her a key and the top drawer in his dresser for any clothes she left over. She walked shakily to the full bed and shed her clothes. Something was off about her. She seemed to move strangely, jerkily. Leon sat up, covers falling off his bare chest. He turned on the bedside lamp, wincing when it stung his eyes.

"Everything okay, Ames?"

The woman jumped backwards while she was shuffling out of her tight jeans, almost tripping over the fabric bunched at her ankles. "Jeez, Leon! You almost gave me a heart attack!" She hissed at him like a displeased cat and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. She was so dramatic.

Leon leaned back against the headboard to watch her remove the rest of her clothes. It was quite the sight. He licked his lips when she removed her bra. His hungry gaze caught her eye and she pressed her knee into the bed, weight dipping it. Then she began to crawl towards him, slowly inching closer. Suddenly, it didn't bother him that she'd been out all night with her mysterious new work friends. Shapely hips perfectly molded to his own. She was using that body of hers to distract him again. She reached up, brushing her hair back before leaning forwards to capture his lips with hers. Smirking in approval, he leaned closer, looking forward to the welcome distraction. Well, until he smelled_ it_.

"Are you drunk?" Firmly, he pushed her back by her arms. She let out a whine of protest. Amy had never touched alcohol in the time that they'd been together. She knew it was a sore spot for him. His mother had practically bathed in the stuff while he was growing up, only kicking the habit after his dad had been killed on the job. "You've got to be fucking kidding me, Amy!"

The pretty woman pouted and tilted her head to the side cutely. She wobbled a bit, unsteady. His hands clenched involuntarily around her arms, making her wince. "What's wrong, Baby? I just had a few drinks with my new friends." She pulled his hands away from her and tried to nuzzle under his chin. "Work was hard today."

The smell suffocated him. He was brought back to his childhood, watching a beer bottle shatter against the wall by the television. His parents fought again. Leon was too young, too small to understand at the time. He'd watched from the top of the stairs in confusion. The flashback left a sour taste in his mouth. He had to get away from her.

His jaw clenched. "Get off."

Amy knew better than to keep pushing and stopped straddling him. Throwing off his covers, he made a beeline for the bathroom. Amy followed him, looking a little lost. Leon glared at her before shutting the door behind himself. The bad patch job of the hole he'd made seemed to mock him. He turned on the bathroom tap and splashed water on his face, cooling himself off. He'd need to be cool-headed to not scream and holler at her. They probably couldn't survive another fight. The knob turned and the door opened. She leaned against the doorway, gorgeous body still on full display. He averted his eyes and took a deep breath, clenching the porcelain of the sink.

"Seriously? You had to go get drunk? You know how I feel about that garbage." He looked into Amy's eyes, noting that they were unfocused. There would be no talking to her tonight. Feeling disappointed resentment travel up his throat, he swallowed thickly. "You know what? I don't want to have this conversation. I'm sleeping on the couch tonight."

Amy followed him, growing heated. "What the Hell, Leon?! So I don't get to have a drink and unwind because it makes you grouchy? I made friends today. Why don't you ask me about them, huh? They're nice and I finally found something in that shithole store that I like!"

Leon gathered his blankets, ignoring her shrill voice. It was going to be another fight, one that he'd rather have in the morning when he was calmer and she was sober. Honestly, he'd never seen her like this. Even during past fights, he'd never heard her use coarse language. She'd been raised in an incredibly strict home by devout Mormons. Her mom would've been appalled had she heard those words come from Amy's mouth. It was incredibly foreign to hear and shook him. His Amy was buried underneath the booze, somewhere. He didn't want to talk about this with a person who was practically a stranger.

The woman didn't take kindly to his silence. "Ignoring me, huh? That's so like you, avoiding conflict. Like a _coward_." That word made him stop. He was _not _a coward. He gritted his teeth and tried to suppress the rising anger. "What, Leon? Are you just going to pretend I don't exist until I'm back to being your perfect little girlfriend? I'm so sick of that bullshit mentality. Like I'm not good enough or something."

So that's what she thought? Leon ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He turned to where the woman had started crying in her tirade. "It's not about that and we both know it. Just…" His look settled somewhere between pity and quiet rebuke. "Just get some sleep and we'll talk in the morning, okay? I don't think either of us is equipped to be having a conversation right now."

"Fuck you!" She refused to back down. She swayed in place, obviously extremely intoxicated. He didn't know how he hadn't recognized the signs immediately.

"Damn, Ames, did they let you drive like this?!" Some good friends. He wanted to tear them apart for putting her in this situation.

"So what? It's not like it matters, does it?" Amy started crying honest tears. She sobbed into her hands. "I'm a failure. I'll be pushing carts forever, just dragging you down. What's the point? I can't do anything other than this shitty job because we live in this shitty small town. So tell me, Leon. What's the point?!"

The young man shifted on his feet uncertainly. He knew she was feeling badly about herself, but when had it gotten so terrible that she needed alcohol to cope? Brushing his light brown hair back again, he sighed and gathered her up in his arms. He rested his cheek on the top of her head, feeling her soft hair tickle his nose. Closing his eyes, he rocked her gently. The smell of alcohol was so strong that it made his insides twist and shake. God, he was a terrible boyfriend. She'd been struggling and he hadn't noticed. What happened to him being perfect?

Amy sniffled and held him close. "I just don't want to let you down."

The rookie cop was at a loss. He wasn't ready to deal with this kind of stuff. When had life gotten so screwy? He made the decision to talk with her in the morning, have a serious conversation with her. Maybe it was time that he set some ground rules with her. Maybe it was time that they sat down and honestly talked about the future. They'd both been putting it off for quite some time now. He gritted his teeth. Judging from her soft breaths, she was beginning to doze, even standing up.

Leon sighed and lifted her easily into his arms. She was much lighter than she used to be. He frowned when he noticed that her ribs were showing a bit. He'd been so caught up with becoming a cop that he'd let her slip. The man growled at himself and placed her on the bed without any protests. She was tucked in and out like a light in a matter of moments. He brushed away some of the stray hairs that'd fallen onto her face. She snored softly, already deeply asleep.

The young man watched her for a few moments, analyzing her face. She'd gotten a terrible sunburn at work. The sunscreen did little to protect her pale complexion, since she sweated it all off in the first hour. He sat next to her on the bed, careful not to jostle her. Sleep was the only time she looked happy anymore. Face cradled in his hands, he let out a low groan. He wished he could go back to the days that they were genuinely happy, when they went to dances together and enjoyed movies at the local theater. The last year had taken its toll on them. It'd been rough ever since her parents had forced her to get a job. She'd come to him that night, ranting and raving about how unfair they were being. It'd led to their first real argument. Leon missed the Amy that laughed at his corny jokes, surprised him with homemade trinkets on his birthday, and seemed to be able to predict the end to _every_ movie they watched together. She'd changed so much. Leon turned the bedside lamp off.

The rookie cop pressed his hands into his eyes to stave off the pressure behind them. He had a headache. Dreading the morning after, he got up and made his bed on the couch. He fell into a restless, fitful sleep. He rocketed awake, twice, with nightmares about Amy. The first one had faded from his memory as soon as he was awake, but the second one stuck in his head with a terrible vengeance. He'd been at the RPD, wearing his new uniform. Amy had burst in, wobbling and drunk with a knife. He'd had to put her down. The thought had rolled his stomach every possible direction. It was an image he'd rather forget.

Covered in sweat and uncomfortable on the short couch, Leon rolled over with a groan. It' been a long time since he'd slept on it and he forgot how lumpy it was. He glared into the darkness of his apartment. His mobile phone was taunting him from the coffee table. Right. He'd forgotten about the phone call, with everything that'd happened. Jesus, had that really been yesterday? Well, technically the day before. He wondered again why they'd told him not to come in. It made his fingers twitch, like he wanted to dial their number and call again. He frowned into the darkness of the night and rolled over, taking his eyes off his phone. It was a reminder that everything was slowly falling apart. Trying to clear his head, he laid in complete silence. It was exhausting. The morning couldn't come soon enough.

:.:

Claire Redfield wasn't quite sure when she'd realized that her brother was the favored child between them. Maybe it'd been during Sophmore year that she'd finally pieced it together, when her parents had all but disowned her. To be fair, she _had _landed herself in a juvenile detention facility for blackening Mackenzie Stern's face—but she'd be lying if she said the bitch hadn't deserved it at the time. Claire had fallen in with a tough crowd during school; they'd been the type to wear all black, listen to heavy music, and smoke pot. A _lot_ of pot was smoked during high school. It hadn't sat well with the Redfields, who were considered upstanding, God-fearing members of the community. They hadn't been too impressed when Claire had brought home her first girlfriend, either. She'd been the black sheep of the family. If asked Claire would answer that her happiest memories of her teenage years were sneaking out of the house to attend concerts and hang with her crew.

Chris, on the other hand, had always been a well-behaved and mild-mannered young man. While the first few years of his high school career had flown by with little happening, Junior year was when he'd finally come out of his shell. He'd started a rather successful sports career and made a group of friends that was both incredibly large and incredibly diverse. After that, he'd gained a sort of confidence that attracted people to him like a magnet. He made new friends easily. The sort of charisma he had, Claire would kill for. After school, he'd started on the path to becoming a police officer. He'd been lauded as a hero in their town, especially after he'd been accepted into a special niche within the RPD. A golden star for the S.T.A.R.S. agent.

Claire left home at sixteen. Her parents had been concerned about her wellbeing, but she could also see the relief in their eyes when she'd confronted them. It'd been a bittersweet moment, realizing that they still cared about her but that they were still unable to accept or handle her. They'd done their best while she was growing up to steer her towards the 'right' path and they considered her their own personal failure. It wasn't something that sat well with Claire. Despite everything, her parents called every week to check on her. They still told her they loved her, and for the most part she believed them. They were just stuck in their ways.

To her surprise, Chris visited her regularly. While he'd never been judgmental of her lifestyle, he'd never been particularly close to her. When she moved in with her friends, though, he'd made it a point to see her regularly. He'd taught her how to shoot a gun, had helped her get a sweet custom leather jacket, and had even gotten her a great deal on a used Harley. They'd fixed the beat up old thing together, laughing and bonding the whole time. Claire herself had mellowed after moving out. It was almost like she had nothing left to prove. Most of her crew had lost contact with her, either because they'd wound up in the slammer or because she wasn't _cool _anymore. Her days of being mindlessly angry at everything were over.

So Claire travelled. So got on her motorcycle and never looked back, only stopping to eat and sleep or take in the sights. She'd made a few circuits of the USA and had even _befriended_ a few like-minded ladies along the way. Even a few handsome guys had wormed their way into her heart. None of them had been long relationships, since she was always on the move. Despite that, she was content to have it just be her motorcycle and her on the road. Another person would bog down the whole experience. Or, at least, she thought so. There was nothing quite as satisfying as having a whole stretch of road to yourself.

Claire frequently used payphones along the way, mostly to update her parents and Chris about her journey. Her parents worried constantly, afraid that maybe she'd end up on the wrong side of the law or in an accident. Claire took their worrying with a grain of salt, understanding that that's just how they were. She assured them constantly that if push came to shove, she'd make it out okay. Her revolver was an added comfort on her hip. Chris, on the other hand, was less vocal about his concerns. She knew he'd still worry about his baby sister until the day he died, but at least he wasn't trying to shove it down her throat. He was much more interested in the bits of the country that she saw, if anything. Clare could talk to him endlessly about the numerous national and state parks that had crossed her path. Currently, her favorite was Zion. The gorgeous red rock structures had a special place in her heart.

Then one day, Chris told her he had a S.T.A.R.S. mission and that he could be gone for a while. She hadn't heard from him since. And apparently, neither had her parents. They'd only received a strange voicemail on their answering machine, letting them know that he wouldn't be able to talk to them for a while, but that they shouldn't worry. Claire had joked that it was an impossible task, them not worrying. They hadn't found it quite as funny.

A month had passed with no contact before Claire found herself truly worried about her brother. He was the good son, never leaving their parents in the dark for more than a few days at a time. If anybody would pull a disappearing act, it would've been Claire. The whole thing was completely out of character for her older brother, though. Her mom had expressed concern to her multiple times, while her father had attempted to file Chris as a missing person. While her parents were worrywarts, the biker had found herself in the rare position of agreeing with them. Something was wrong. He didn't answer his mobile phone, nor was he reachable at the police station. In fact, the news coming from the City was nothing but bad. Riots were apparently breaking out.

Claire had been in California when she made the decision to check up on her brother. There'd been a strange radio broadcast coming from the city, apparently. Something about monsters or something. It'd sent them over the edge. Neither of the Redfield parents had found any success when visiting the police station a week prior. They'd been turned away by the officer at the front desk with little explanation. After all, Chris was a grown man and his work was extremely sensitive. But Claire was much more willing to snoop than them.

She'd gotten on her bike and turned her sights on Raccoon City, not knowing what horrors awaited her there.

:.:

Rae had only ever been exposed to gore in movies—until just recently, that is. The sight that greeted her and Lieutenant Branagh in the East Hall was enough to give a horror movie a run for its money. A middle-aged man had turned, launching at several nearby people. Among the victims were Tyson, who'd had his throat bitten into. Rae hid her face in her hands when she saw the kindly old man's face contorted in pain and terror. He was still alive but slowly bleeding out. She could see blood spilling from between his fingers with every beat of his heart. A young officer replaced his fingers with a towel, though it wouldn't do much to stem the bleeding. A woman had been entirely disemboweled and was clearly dead already. Rae couldn't make out her features because her face was turned away. Another young man sported a bite on his arm. He'd gotten off lucky by comparison, but was no less dead. He'd turn eventually.

She recognized the bitten young man as the father to the kids in the Main Hall. Damn. Rae ducked behind the corner of the East Office, not wanting to see any more. She could hear Branagh barking orders at his officers. The corpses were to be disposed of, same as the ones from the Main Hall the day before. The officers milled about Tyson, trying to make him comfortable, but there was no saving him. Rae couldn't bear to watch when it happened. She slid down the wall and hid her face in her knees. People kept dying, left and right. Of course, that was to be expected. Still…

The numb feeling was creeping back in, even as she tried to get her thoughts straight. She welcomed it. It was easier than feeling anything. Her hands and arms shook, her legs locked up, and her breath hitched. Black spots danced across her vision. Was she having a panic attack? Tiffany had one during class one time, so Rae was aware of the symptoms. The young woman rocked in place, feeling simultaneously distant and freaking the hell out.

A cup of coffee crossed her vision. The young officer who'd treated Tyson held out a paper cup to her. Well, looking at him, she couldn't say he was that young. He had lines around his eyes and mouth, though they were incredibly faint. Rae took the coffee from his hand with a thanks and downed it in a few gulps. Typical office coffee; bland and burned. Still, it made her feel better, having something to comfort her.

"Elliot Edwards." The man offered his hand, whether to shake hers or help her up she wasn't sure. She stared at it for a second, unsure of what to do. The officer cleared his throat awkwardly and retracted the offered limb. "You're the zombie girl, right? The one form the Main Hall?"

Rae nodded. "Y-yeah… I guess that's me."

Officer Edwards snorted. "We all thought you were off your rocker." He looked back at the scene around the corner, eyes growing sad for a moment. "Wish that'd been true," he murmured softly. "This whole thing is fucked."

"Completely," she agreed easily. The coffee hadn't helped with the jitters, but she was feeling a bit better.

"Well, I have to write a report about this. Care to join me? Everybody else is going to be busy."

Rae shrugged and the man helped her to her feet. It was better than staying at the scene. It made the young woman wonder. How had the man who'd attacked them been infected? Had he come in infected and just taken a while to change? Or did he contract the illness somewhere in the station? She looked down at her feet, even as she followed Officer Edwards. Rae caught the sad eyes of Ford as they passed by him. He must've been made aware of what happened to his friend. She felt for the kindly old man.

They ended up in the West Offices again, with Edwards at his desk and Rae loitering a few feet away, unsure of what to do. She hadn't talked to the man before, didn't know him. What topics were safe? Where was the line? She shifted anxiously from foot to foot. Maybe she should be more worried about the infected man, but honestly there was only so long somebody could be stressed about something. She'd long since reached her threshold.

"So," she began, catching his attention, "do you know how the infection got in the building?"

Edwards stopped typing on his typewriter. He looked uncertain as to whether or not it was something her should share. Ultimately, he decided to be vague. "Can't say for sure until all of the information is in." He knew something. Rae frowned, though she understood. She was a civilian. They weren't going to open up to her about everything.

"What'd going to happen to the man who was infected?"

"He'll be moved to a secure room where we can observe him."

"It's dangerous to keep him inside with us."

Edwards sighed. "What would you recommend we do?"

Rae honestly wasn't sure. The man was going to change; that was certain. If they left him in the building, he could possibly break down the door and injure somebody else. Unless they had another cell block that Rae wasn't aware of. But the alternative was to send him outside, where he'd have to battle hordes of infected until he ultimately succumbed. Both choices were bad. Well, there was a third option: put him down. She shook her head, horrified at herself for even thinking it. Then again, in a survival situation did morals really matter? If a man was dying anyway, would killing him count? Rae shook at the dark turn her own thoughts had taken. Debating morals and philosophy would get them nowhere.

Rae spoke, voice shaking. "It would be best to get rid of the small problem before it grows." They had to survive, by any means necessary.

"Just what are you suggesting?"

"Remove him from the station. Permanently. Humanely." The young woman looked away, unable to meet his eyes. She'd regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. They left the foulest flavor on her tongue: guilt. Who was she to decide the fate of a man, especially when he had a family waiting for him? Who was she to decide anyway? She couldn't even bring herself to hit an actual zombie, let alone a person who still hadn't turned. She couldn't even imagine shooting a person, not when they were still living, breathing, thinking.

Edwards shook his head. "We can't… We can't do that. We're the good guys. We don't shoot people because they may be infected."

Rae nibbled on her lip. "I know. I'm sorry that slipped out." It would be too much to ask for. It'd just been one of those passing thoughts. Something that maybe she didn't really mean. Fear was a powerful motivator in a crisis. Or maybe she meant it whole-heartedly. Maybe she'd be okay with killing somebody else if it meant she'd make it out. She wasn't so sure anymore.

Edwards gave her a cross look, but didn't comment on it. Rae wondered why he'd invited her along. Maybe it was to get rid of her so the other officers could do an investigation of the scene. That'd make sense. Couldn't really get in-depth when there's a civvie taking up your floorspace. She'd recognized most of the people involved: Officer Tyson, the father, another man who she'd seen in the Main Hall. She wondered who the woman was, though. The victim's face had been turned away and even then Rae had only caught a glimpse of the body before she'd hidden herself.

"The woman who was killed… who was she?"

"Doctor Tsu," Edwards answered grimly.

Their only doctor. Dread chased the numbness away. Their only freaking doctor. Rae remembered the pretty woman who'd treated her arm. Her shoulder throbbed, as though to remind her it was still injured. Their only doctor was dead and they were in the middle of the plague to put all other plagues to shame. Rae fisted her good hand tightly, knuckles going white. The whole situation was spiraling out of control. Like gasoline poured onto a fire, it was all burning down.

Just when Rae thought it couldn't get any worse, the mother from the Main Hall entered the room. How were they going to break the news to her? Did she know her husband was gone? She was near-hysterical as she began to talk to Officer Edwards.

"Please, help me find her. I can't find her anywhere! I looked away, just for a moment and she was gone!"

_Her_? The woman wasn't talking about her husband, clearly. Rae jumped when the mother placed her hands on both of the young woman's shoulders and shook her. The abrupt motion jostled her injured shoulder making Rae hiss through her teeth. She wanted to push the older woman away, but was stopped by the frantic look in her grey eyes.

"Please, you're close to her age. Have you seen her? My Paige? Edgar is looking for her right now, but now I've lost him too." The woman noted Rae's confusion and seemed to realize that she had no idea what was being said. So, the woman turned to the officer in the room. "My daughter's gone missing! You have to help me find her!"

The police radio turned on, then. Branagh's voice was highly recognizable, even through the static. "The man injured in the East Hall is reporting a missing child. Paige Fitzgerald. 16. Dark hair and pink cardigan. All non-essential personal, please be on the lookout."

An attack in the East hall and now a missing girl? Had she maybe turned as well? Rae shared a look with Officer Edwards, both feeling helpless. The older man began talking into his own radio, updating Branagh on their situation. Meanwhile, the mother had collapsed into a sobbing heap in Rae's arms. Maybe the Lieutenant was right. She seemed to be at the center of everything. What was going in in the station?

:.:

_To Be Continued…_

:.:

**A/N:** So this chapter was hard in a way I honestly didn't expect. Wow. To be honest, I'm still not satisfied with any part of it. It's slow, it drags, it's awkward. Unfortunately, I'm trying to stick to some sort of schedule so my beta can keep up. I'm probably going to do a total redux of the story after I get the idea up and running, so I'm resisting the urge to delete the whole chapter and start from scratch. If this story ever feels like it's a heavy WIP or like the chapters are weirdly paced, I'm sorry. It is a WIP. I usually write entire stories in one document, edit them, then post them. This allows the writing to stay uniform and for me to go back and change things as I like. Since I'm going chapter-by-chapter here and don't have that luxury, I'm having to edit the previous chapters as I go. While this entire story _is_ outlined, that still doesn't always translate neatly to writing. New ideas pop up, you guys suggest juicy goods that just _have_ to make it in the story, and characters evolve. So please be patient with me if I change some bits now and then. I'll try to hold off for a bit, but sometimes the urge strikes.

So, Leon and Claire have been introduced! You may have noticed that Leon's character is getting a revamp. Yep. That's a thing that happened. We see him go pretty jarringly from 'Golden Boy' rookie cop in the 2 Remake to a loveable asshole from 4 onwards. Wanted to give him a temper to make it a little more realistic. I'm posting a character study on my bio to give you guys an idea of what to expect from the established characters. That way you can see if you wanna stick with me. It's going to get dark, folks. This is, first and foremost, an in-depth study of the characters and events of the game.

In this chapter we explained the book puzzle with the statue, the typewriters, and the art room.

**Reviewers:  
**White Alchemist Taya: Damn Umbrella hard. I understand the sentiment. The Chief will be in this story, as per Clair's path. Whether or not Rae runs into him is a surprise. As always, thank you for your feedback!  
Scottusa1: Already got the barricade outlined. Done. Thank you for the tidbit. The goal is to shed some light on as many forgotten characters in the station as possible. I want to make you think about everything a little differently. If I can change your gaming experience even a little, I want to be able to. As always, thank you for your feedback!  
psychxdelix: Please don't die! I'd be sad if I killed somebody with my writing. Also, yeah… I cried while killing Jensen. I liked him better than Rae, to be honest. Real, honest tears. Glad to see you're still enjoying it, though! As always, thank you for your feedback!

_Thank you to all who've put me and this story on Alert or Favorite. Love you guys!_


	6. Update

Hi, Guys!

I'm sorry for my continued absence and I just wanted to let you know that I haven't lost interest in this story, nor in you guys. I'm aware that Author's Notes as full chapters are frowned upon on here, but I wanted a comprehensive way to update you on my current situation as it pertains to Accelerant and for another planned story for The Sims 4. I'd have put this on my Bio if FFNet had ANY way of letting readers know when statuses have changed, or I wish they had an alert system that allowed the writers tp update all followers without having to send out a bajillion PMs, but alas. This chapter will be removed and replaced with the next one as soon as I'm able to churn it out. In fact, the whole story is going to see some reworking. Yay! I'll explain this in a moment.

First off, I want to let everybody know why I've been gone for so long. If you live here Stateside then you're probably aware of the monster rain/thunderstorms that swept over the Midwest and caused terrible flooding damage. Thankfully, I live on a hill above a dry creek bed, so my property didn't flood. But during one of the storms lightning struck the ground outside my house and not only destroyed my well pump, television, stove, and computer. Most of the stuff was under warranty, so it was no problem to replace. The well pump was ludicrously expensive, since trying to replace it opened a whole slew of problems. The pump was an older model and some of the electronic works were exposed so we had to have our water tested for possible contaminates. We found out during the process that the large amounts of rain contaminated our water with fecal matter (as we have a few chickens and quail) and that we not only had to have the system "flushed", essentially, but we also had to have our well encased in concrete up to 100 feet as opposed to previously, where it was encased down to the level of the solid rock layer. So it's been time-consuming and expensive. I'm just glad the vineyard wasn't too damaged, otherwise I'd also be out of a job.

You may have noticed in the above paragraph that I also mentioned my computer being fried. Yes, _that_ computer. My computer that held everything related to not only my fanfiction but also my original novel, which I've been working on for almost a year now. So, yeah. I lost everything. I had a copy of everything saved to a flash drive, because I'm not a boob, but the flash drive was also damaged during the strike since it was plugged in to the laptop (I know you're supposed to unplug everything that's grounded during a storm but my husband and I were out of town visiting my mom at the time. Seriously, I'm not a boob. I can't stress this enough.) I was pretty well devastated. For this story I had a planned 29 chapters with 17 fully outlined and 6 more tentatively outlined. I also had two chapters written in advance that were lost. Thankfully, I still have some of my rambling sessions recorded on my phone

That leaves me with so much time between actually writing and no guides at all as to where to go from here. Going back and rereading, I honestly have no idea how to progress from what I already have uploaded-not without the change being super jarring and some plotlines most likely left unresolved. There was a plan to have side plots involving a killer in the station, exploration into the city, and Umbrella's coverups that I doubt I could properly type up in the short window between updates. Like I said, everything used to be outlined and now I'm working from scratch. I sat down with Rena (my lovely Beta and the best person ever) and she helped me get all of my thoughts organized for both this and my book. I decided that rather than trying to pick up the pieces and finish out the story half-assed and half-cocked, I want to do a full rework and finish this monster to the best of my ability. This story had honestly been the first thing I've posted online that I'm actually super proud of. It's garnered overwhelming positivity so I want to pay you guys back by putting something of quality up here rather than just spewing something out because I'm MASSIVELY behind schedule. That said, I won't do a full rework if you guys don't want me to; I'd completely understand.

All I ask is a month to start up a new outline and mull things over, then I'll either have a bomb ass new piece of Accelerant posted or an update. Some things that were part of my original vision may be scrapped. It might be that everything is kept largely the same or I may decide to throw everything to the wind and do a complete overhaul. I need to think it over before I do anything drastic. I don't want to upset you guys more than I probably already have. I wanted to do a Redux that may possibly lead to a short sequel (the original intended plot and ending to this story left a follow-up basically impossible). I had actually talked extensively with Rena and some of you about actually posting a Redux after this one was complete. This may be my perfect opportunity to go ahead and do that now, rather than later.

So, I'm sorry that I've been gone for so long. It's been a rough ride. For those of you interested, I can also post updates around my original novel on my bio but I suspect it'll take a very long time to pick up the pieces on that particular project. Sorry that this had been one big long ramble fest. I needed to get everything out there.

I leave you with a few questions. You guys can PM me anytime with your answers, questions of your own, comments, or concerns. Or you can do so in a review and I can reach you from there. Now that I have a laptop that isn't a charred pile of ash, I WILL respond. I'm sorry to the couple of PM threads I had going before this whole debacle. I promise I'm not a jerkface who was ignoring you for funzies. Alrighty, so here are my questions:

**1) Would you like me to go ahead and try to pick up where I left off with only a few very minor edits or would you rather I try to rework the story in its entirety?**

Trying where I left off may yield clumsy results, but I'd be back to updating quicker than otherwise. The story will remain largely what I had originally intended it to be, though it may be a little messy and have a few unresolved bits and pieces here or there. And there might be a weird tone shift. Since I no longer have the original outline there are some plotlines that I'm honestly not sure about anymore and the way I resolve them now may not necessarily be 100% satisfying for me or you. That said, I may also churn out things that are perfectly acceptable. I work well under pressure.

If I rework the story, I can add in new elements and expand upon side characters that we didn't get to know very well, or even upon Rae herself. I can add in new plotlines and get rid of tidbits that don't make a lot of sense in hindsight. The story may improve, or it may be a flaming pile of poop. Who knows? If I did a reworking, I don't know how much would change. It could be very basic plot elements or it could be a good chunk. Like I said, my brainstorming session with Rena really gave me some great ideas that I'd love to write but that wouldn't fit with the current incarnation of Accelerant, both in pacing and tone. This may be a good time to work those in. This would push back my update time a little since I'd essentially be working with a "new" story.

**2) If I did a reworking that ended up being considerably different to the original Accelerant, should I post the reworking as a separate story or replace the current chapters on this story?**

If I posted the reworking as a separate story from this one, I could mark this one as "Complete" and leave it up for you guys to read and enjoy, and you'd be able to review the rework chapter-by-chapter, since FFNet only allows one review per person per chapter. If I replaced the story, it'd no longer be available in its current form but you'd already have this on alert/favorite so you guys wouldn't have to track down the new piece and do everything over again whenever I get it uploaded.

**3) Whenever I get back on track, are there any suggestions that you have for me? Any characters you want to see/want to see more of? Any tidbits you thought of while reading this?**

**4) If you had to pick, would you like to keep the longer chapters with less frequent updates or would you want them shorter with more frequent updates?**

**5) Would you prefer this story with mature/sexual content or would you rather it be cross-posted to AO3, with the super NSFW stuff being removed from here?**

Alrighty! I won't keep you guys any longer. Please let me know what your thoughts are. I'm so very sorry that this happened. I'm going to dig my heels in and try to push forward, regardless of what direction this takes me in. Thank you for sticking with me through this and for your support thus far story-wise. This fanfic has managed to get a really cool fanbase and I don't want to let you down. Seriously, I love you guys!

_Hard-Knock-Life_

P.S.: If you type in "but that" really fast, sometimes it turns into "butt hat". I had a few butt hats in this update, not gonna lie. Don't worry if you see one-they're harmless.


	7. Final Update and Flare

**Hi, Guys!**

Thank you all for your patience with this whole debacle. You've been a wonderful audience and probably the most supportive readers that I've had in a long time. If you read my update in the last chapter, you know that I've hit a rough patch writing-wise. This story in particular has suffered greatly, as it was my main Fanfiction project at the time. It was the one that I had the most drafted, as well as the most written. Thankfully, I hadn't gotten my newer fanfiction ideas onto my computer yet, so they're all on paper. Hooray for procrastination!

You may have noticed that this story is now marked as complete. And it is until I can cobble together something halfway coherent or give it the proper ending it deserves. I had briefly considered writing up an ending chapter that skipped time straight to the police station, where we could see the aftermath and have everybody meet. I was going to hammer a big, long chapter out and call this fanfic done. I didn't want to do that, though, because it would absolutely kill what little pacing this story already had and it would undermine the characters I've worked so hard to bring to life. Instead, I'm putting Accelerant on hiatus until I can figure my crap out. I will try to be active with the community still and will probably upload other works, but I'll keep trying to push this story back to the forefront. I want this blasted work finished, even if it kills me!

This past month has been pretty much a writer's hell. As in, my muse has deserted me and instead been replaced by this stupid wall. I replayed the remake twice, took a swing at the original, watched let's plays, delved into the lore... nothing has helped. I'm frustrated with this story and with the situation, and that's making it hard to write anything else for Accelerant. I tried to push out a new chapter, but I feel like I'm competing with Past Me-like no matter what I write it won't be as good as what was in that lost document. And that feeling really sucks. As a writer, I am my own worst critic and my own worst distraction. I hate everything I type now. And I know it's silly, but I can't post a chapter when I feel like its garbage. I don't want to feel that way and you guys don't deserve something thrown together just because I have a deadline to meet.

As I said earlier, I DID try to write an abrupt "temporary" ending to the story. One that skipped ahead and showed us the end result versus the journey of getting there. But there was no point because it would've just been a tired rehash of the remake's first hour of gameplay with no investment and no love. And no originality as to the plotline. So I scrapped that idea pretty quick. Sure, the story would have an ending, but instead of a four course meal it would've been a taco from a food truck-cheap, but unfulfilling and a bit smelly. That's a hard 'no' from me, Chief.

So, yeah, I'll come back to this someday. But it probably wont be soon. I'm sorry that this has completely stalled everything. Sometimes life happens and sometimes writers get writer's block.

In other news, all my documents are now being uploaded onto Google Documents so that they have an online backup. I honestly should've done this ages ago and I'm paying for it now. But you live, you lose, and you learn a lesson somewhere along the line.

In other news, this is not JUST and update and a hiatus announcement; it is, in fact, another chapter! Hurrah! Rena, thankfully, is the best Beta ever and she kept a few old drafts of chapters I sent her. And one of these just to happened to be the next upload; well, it's an early version of the next chapter anyway. I think it was probably the first version I typed up, actually. It was scrapped pretty early on in the process for being a little slow and awkard. It's a little rough and unfinished... But it's a chapter. It's my hope that this at least tides you guys over.

So, I'm sorry that I'm going on a break form this story but I feel it's for the best. And I hope to see you guys back whenever I am either able to do a complete remake or I'm able to pick up where I left off. Thank you for everything!

_Hard-Knock-Life_

* * *

**Flare**

**Rating:** M**  
Warnings: **Violence, Language, Drug/Alcohol References/Abuse, Mild/Explicit Sexual Content**  
Disclaimer:** All properties related to the Resident Evil/Biohazard series belong to Capcom. Any other products are the intellectual property of their respective owners.**  
**

:.:

Leon S. Kennedy was a cop kid, through and through. Ever since he'd been old enough to walk, he'd practically been welcomed into the small family that was the Huntsville office. They' taught him to ride a bike, to play catch, and to shoot a gun. Typical boyhood milestones. It'd been a group effort raising him, something he never took for granted. Old Charlie Colter was the grouchy uncle of the family, and his daughter Chelle often helped out with community events; Robbie Cypress was the wacky one, always wise-cracking; Thomas Paine was the stoic one who rarely joined in on their antics. Leon's dad was the kind-hearted one. The Colt always teased Leon, saying that 'that dad of yours, he'd let his entire paycheck go to burn if it meant feeding a few stray kittens'. Robert Kennedy had been struck by a drunk driver on a desolate stretch of highway, trying to pull an unconscious woman from a car. He'd been a hero.

Leon's mother, on the other hand, was well-known in the community for something far less tasteful. She was always reaching for a flask, or a bottle, or a glass of something strong. She had chronic pain that had become manageable by self-administering alcohol in large doses. Her leg had been shattered in a work accident and hadn't quite healed right, making it difficult to function. As long as Leon had known the woman, she'd been drunk. She wasn't a volatile woman, or even really emotional. But she was distant, which often lead to arguments with his dad. She'd given up the drink for good after the man had passed away and tried to raise Leon right. At that point, though, their relationship had suffered irreparable damage. He phoned occasionally to check on her but they weren't close. It was one of the reasons he hated alcohol. It'd kept his mom from being there for him, and it'd taken his father away.

Whenever Leon woke on the morning of the twenty-sixth, the small apartment was filled with the smell of cooking food. The young man rolled over and yawned. He ran a hand over his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them. Sore muscles stretched and his back popped in protest. Right, he'd slept on the couch. The couch never was particularly kind to him. He'd fallen asleep on it a few times before, watching some late night television. Rolling his shoulders, he sat up. Had he been watching something last night or…? The memories of last night flashed behind his eyes. Amy, alcohol, a fight. He threw his arm over his face and groaned. Great. He wasn't looking forward to seeing her this morning.

The rich smell of fatty breakfast foods permeated the air. She was probably cooking. Despite being no Paula Dean, the pretty young woman was at least qualified to make eggs and bacon. Leon ran a hand over his cricked neck and leaned forwards, elbow digging into his thigh. Was she trying to bribe him with food? Maybe she was apologizing? He remembered the way they'd screamed at each other the night before. It made him sick. God, it was just like how his parents used to be. Fighting, always fighting.

The man decided to bite the bullet and left the relative comfort of his impromptu bed. Deciding to avoid the kitchen for the moment, he instead made a beeline for the bathroom. Grimacing at the hole in the door and mentally reminding himself to fix it, he opened it up and walked inside. Cool water washed away the sleep from his eyes and all evidence of night sweats. He'd tossed and turned all night, if the stiffness of his body was any indication. It was a wonder he hadn't turned himself right off of the couch and onto the carpet. Then again, the floor was probably more comfortable than his ratty old furniture.

Leon frowned at his own reflection, the bags under its eyes and the frown on its face. His eyes took note of the tiniest of spiderweb cracks that had made its home on his bathroom mirror. It was almost invisible, but his keen eyes were able to follow it from its origin at the very edge of the reflective glass. He carefully stroked the area where the mirror had splintered. Had he done that last night? He didn't remember even touching the mirror, but his recollection was clouded over by a red hue. He knew that he'd gripped the sink pretty hard, but the tough ceramic didn't show any signs of cracking. Leon splashed another handful of water onto his face, sputtering when some got up his nose in his carelessness. For a moment, he watched the water run down the sink. It was disturbingly metaphorical for his own relationship now—going down the drain.

The tap was quickly turned off and his face dried on a nearby hand towel. He stumbled out of the bathroom and made his way into the kitchen. Amy had her back to him. She was fussing over some dishes in the sink. Leon noted that she'd cleaned up from the night before. Clad in one of his old workout shirts and a pair of linen capris, she looked comfortable. It appeared that she'd even taken the time to pull her pretty straight hair up into a braid. The woman seemed to be aware of his entrance into the room because she stiffened the slightest bit in her shoulders. She continued her task, though, not turning around.

"There's, um, some breakfast for you on the table." The young woman's voice wavered slightly. She gestured behind her with a half clean spatula.

Leon awkwardly took his place in front of one of the plates at the small table, muttering a word of thanks. He stared at the meal before him and poked absentmindedly at the still-runny yolk of one of the eggs with his fork. He remembered when he used to play with his food as a child and his mother used to snap at him. She had a beer in front of her, even early in the morning. Leon chugged his own glass of milk in order to wash away the taste of bad memories. This morning was going to be uncomfortable.

Amy finished cleaning up and dried her hands with a dish towel. She turned to face him and gave him a half smile. She'd meticulously applied her makeup to cover up any blemishes that she might have. Her hair was perfectly pulled back and she had somehow managed to make his old t-shirt look like high fashion. Leon knew that in comparison he looked like crap. He had horrible bags under his eyes, his hair was a rat's nest, and his old pajama pants were practically falling apart at the seams. Still, she looked at him with adoration. Though that was clouded slightly by uncertainty.

His girlfriend lingered just behind her chair, hand placed awkwardly on the back rest. Perfectly manicured nails tapped anxiously on the wood. Clearing his throat, Leon gestured for her to sit down. Neither met the others' eyes, nor did they touch their breakfast for a while. Both sat in silence, gauging the mood. The discomfort was tangible in the stuffy air.

To his surprise, it was Amy who spoke up. "Listen, Leon, I'm so sorry about last night. I know I crossed a line with the dinking. But, I—"

"I'm sorry too, Ames," Leon murmured, cutting her off. He didn't want to hear her excuse. "I lost my temper. I shouldn't have snapped."

Amy shifted nervously in her seat, prodding her egg with her fork. Leon snorted a bit at how similar they dealt with awkward situations. It was funny, really, how inept they were. Adult life was so different from school. They'd both been learning that the hard way. But she was still childish. Maybe they both were. Amy still grasped onto things that didn't matter, like popularity and image. She'd almost gone nuts when her incredibly large circle of friends had dwindled down into almost nothing. Leon would like to think that maybe he'd grown in the past few years, even if it was just a little. He'd let go of most of those worries, instead choosing to throw himself into his work. He wanted to make a future for them instead of languishing in that past.

Amy took tiny bites of her food, while Leon wolfed his own down. He hadn't eaten the night before and was feeling it. After all distractions were out of the way and their food was finished, Leon thought of what to say next. Was now the right time to talk to her? Would there really ever be a right time?

"Thanks for making breakfast."

"Sure. It was nothing."

The two sat in complete silence again. Leon began to feel frustrated with himself and the situation. Why were words so hard? He caught her eye and she looked away. She was clearly still upset about the night before. Hell, he was too. He could feel the anger lurking beneath the surface, lingering in the back of his mind. He pushed it away. It was pointless to be angry for something that'd already passed.

"I want to go out today, maybe downtown?" Amy stood up and gathered their dishes. Leon kept his eyes fixed to her as she swept over to the sink and dropped them in. So they were leaving it at that? "I want to do something nice. Since we haven't really spent much time together the past few months." That was a low blow. She even turned around and fixed him with a stare at that last part.

"Yeah. Downtown sounds nice." Leon looked out the window and frowned at the lingering storm clouds. It looked like rain again. It'd be smart to take an umbrella. "But after that, we need to talk; not fight, not argue."

"We have nothing to talk about." So she was planning on pretending last night hadn't happened, huh? Her back was turned to him but he could see her shoulders shake a bit. "It's my day off today. I want to enjoy it, okay?"

So she was playing that game. Fine. Feeling guilty, Leon sighed and got up. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and pressed his nose into the graceful curve of her neck. Breathing in the sweet floral scent of her perfume, he tightened his grip on her slightly. "We'll go out. I'll see if I can't get Betty to give you a discount on some hot chocolate. Maybe we can even hit that clothes store you like so much?"

"Cocoa sounds good. Maybe no shopping, though. Not in the mood today."

He pressed a kiss behind her ear. The baby hairs that curled around it tickled his nose. Then, he was leaving her to finish up her task. Her pretty eyes flashed towards him then looked away, back out the window over the sink. He left her alone to finally start his day.

Picking out a pair of dark jeans and a red t-shirt, he decided that today he was going to make an effort to look nice. Amy was right: it'd been a long time since they'd had an honest date. It'd probably been since he first started on at the Academy, honestly. He couldn't remember taking her out or doing anything with her since then. The thought made him feel like a dick. He didn't realize that it'd been so long.

He pulled the curtain to the shower and dunked his head under the nigh-scalding spray. The hot water soothed his couch-beleaguered muscles and washed away the filth from the previous night. Just remembering it made him feel disgusting. For a moment he was back in their shared bedroom screaming at her. For a moment he was hunched over the bathroom sink, hands clawed into the bowl, contemplating hitting her. Leon scrubbed the thought away with his fingernails. It almost wasn't enough to make him feel clean again. At the very least, things seemed to be looking up, if her cooking for him was any indication.

Leon pressed his forehead against the tile of the shower, letting the water race over the muscles on his back and wash away the weight that rested there. He watched soap suds slide down the drain. Then he felt soft curves press against him. When had she entered the bathroom? Her painted nails lightly ran against his arms and stroked their way down his sides, tickling him. He chuckled softly and turned around, pulling her against him. Teeth captured and nibbled on his earlobe. He responded by tugging lightly on her still-intact braid, coercing a giggle from her. She knew exactly how to make him feel better. Running her lips over his jawline, her fingers trailed down the muscles of his stomach. They jumped in response to the fleeting touch. He captured her hand just as it moved a little too low.

So, she thought she was going to distract him again, huh? Her body was a weapon and she knew it, the little brat. He couldn't find it in him to be angry or even annoyed at her crude battle tactics. Instead, he was amused. She'd gone from shyly cooking him breakfast to confidently seducing him in the shower. It was all about knowing what mood he was in.

"I don't think so, Amy. Long day ahead; can't be stuck in the shower for it."

The aforementioned woman pouted cutely. "You would say that, party pooper." She poked him on the nose and turned to leave the warm spray, only to receive a swift slap to her left ass cheek in response. Her indignant squeal made Leon laugh in earnest.

Still, thoughts of the night before lingered in the back of his mind. He wasn't sure exactly where they stood. She was obviously content to leave it at that, probably too afraid that she'd really overstepped her bounds this time. She had. He hadn't touched a drop of alcohol in his life and had made it clear that he didn't want her to even think about drinking if they were to remain an item. Not exactly sure what to make of the whole situation, his brain wanted to automatically default to anger. In a way, though, he was sure he was part of the problem.

He toweled off and eyed himself critically in the mirror. The thin crack running up its surface did little to make him feel better.

:.:

It was early in the morning before Claire Redfield decided to stop off and rest. The sun had been up for a while, just long enough to start warming the air. According to the street sighs that she'd hit a few miles back, she was headed into Al Paraiso, New Mexico. She'd decided to take a bit of a detour south to avoid as much of the bad weather as possible. Most of the country was currently getting buckets of rain dumped on it and her Harley's tires were long due for a replacement. She didn't want to risk hydroplaning or getting stuck in a flood zone.

The motel that she pulled up to was small, and more of a hostel than a reputable establishment. Still, it appeared to have a fairly nice bar. At least she could get a drink before sleeping. She lined her bike up alongside those of the other patrons at the bar. It seemed like a roadhouse, maybe somewhere that local groups met up and used as a waterhole. She'd wager they probably had pretty damn good food, too, if the bikers wanted to hang out there. Taking off her helmet, she surveyed the building. It was mostly made of wood but boasted a bit of nice-looking stonework. It was obviously in good repair. Somebody lovingly maintained the place.

Claire's hair was flattened from a straight night of movement and she felt grungy in her leathers. She was certain that sand had made itself a permanent home in the wrinkles of her jacket. The plus side about the hot New Mexican air was that it was dry. Humidity was the real killer for bikers. In the early morning, the ground beneath was still cool and she could feel the warm air melding with it as she moved. It created a pleasant breeze.

The young woman shouldered her backpack, which contained her entire life, and entered the bar. A sign at the right of the door boasted that it was open '24 Hours'. She could check in at the motel after she had a hot meal and a few drinks to help lull her to sleep. Despite the amount of bikes outside, the bar itself wasn't particularly busy. Looking inside, it was a rather large space filled with games, tables, and even a sizeable stage. Definitely gave her a roadhouse vibe. She liked it. The space was quiet, with the only crowd centered on a billiards table in the far corner. Claire took up residence at a bar seat, marveling at the decorations on the walls. License plates from all over the country were plastered on every square inch of available real estate.

The man behind the counter offered her a friendly smile. "Bit early to be out, Hon. You stoppin' in for a reason?"

"I've been on my bike all night. Need a warm place to refuel then crash."

The man stroked his mustache and offered her a small menu. Normally, in these types of establishments the menu was small. This place was no exception, boasting only a few types of burgers and some breakfast items. Heavy greasy comfort foods were the soulfood of America's bikers, after all. Claire was pretty fond of onion rings, herself.

"Got anything deep fried?"

"Woman after my own heart", the man joked good-naturedly. "Got some pretty tasty homemade jalapeno poppers, but you'll be needing an ale to wash them down. Hot stuff—the poppers, not you. Not allowed to flirt with the customers anymore."

Claire giggled. The man was clearly older, far out of her preferred age range. Still, she enjoyed that kind of playful banter. "Anymore?"

"Nearly broke up a marriage. Story for another time, though." The older man winked at her. "Anything lookin' tasty on that menu, Hon?"

Claire pushed a piece of hair behind her ear and glance again at it. Her stomach gave a low growl. She'd been more hungry that she thought. The poppers sounded really good, though that big greasy burger with the onion straws and fried mushrooms was calling her name. She sighed. Tough choice.

"The, uh, Rangeburger and those poppers, please. And I'll trust your judgement and try an ale. Anything special?"

"We have a local brew. Made with apples or something. It's pale, but it still hits the spot."

Claire nodded and the man took her menu away. He bustled off to put in her order. The young woman amused herself with digging through her backpack. It was ratty and nearly bursting at the seams with everything it contained. She kept her clothes in it, as well as any curios she happened to pick up along the way. Recently she'd picked up some sort of clay flute for Chris. It was painted with reds and greens and apparently placed in the kiln with horsehair to give it a beautiful smoky effect. Her parents were getting a hand-carved driftwood angel that she'd managed to barter for in Washington. It'd look great on their mantelpiece.

The young woman pulled out a pocket-sized photo album from one of her pack's many, many zippers. The album was a present from her parents, after she'd told them that she wanted to travel cross-country. While they'd never quite seen eye-to-eye with Claire, they tried to be supportive of her lifestyle choice. Her mother fretted about her traveling alone, while her father was concerned about the safety of her old bike. Not to mention that both were still coming to terms with their daughter's choice in romantic partners. Still, the photo album had been a show of good faith and a testament of love.

Wistful smile on her face, she flipped through the pictures in the book to pass the time. Claire often found herself looking at them whenever she'd been on the road for a while. There were numerous candid snapshots of Claire and Chris as children. One of her favorite was of her brother holding her after she'd first arrived in the house. His little face was screwed up in concentration so he didn't drop his baby sister. Her mother was behind the camera and her dad kept his hands under Chris's just in case the young boy's grip slipped. There were pictures of Claire's rebellious years as well. She lingered in the background, wearing way too much black and generally raging against society. Stifling a giggle at her own blunder years, she turned to a few years later. There was a picture of the whole family together. Chris had just been promoted to S.T.A.R.S. and they were celebrating to commemorate his hard work on the force. Claire had eaten enough cake to hospitalize a horse.

The man behind the counter returned with a piping hot plate of poppers and a cold cup of amber liquid. The young biker thanked him and noted his nametag, which read 'Sal'. Stereotypical bartender name, if ever she'd seen it. The big burly guy sat behind the counter, wiping down the bottles of presumably cheap and strong liquors. Claire shrugged off her 'Made in Heaven' jacket and popped—hehe—a popper into her mouth. She flinched whenever the scalding food burned her tongue and raced to guzzle down some of her drink.

The ale soothed the burn and tasted wonderful. Something fruity and floral, a far cry from her usual drink. Still, she enjoyed it. She continued to flip through the book of fond memories, catching the observant eye of Sal.

"Anything good in there?"

"Just my family. Happy times." Claire smiled and showed the older man a picture of she and her brother. Both were smiling, posing in their custom jackets. They'd gotten them made after they rebuilt Claire's bike from the ground up. "It's nice to carry a piece of home when you're always on the move, y'know?"

"Sagely advice", the man murmured, nodding. "Nothing better than keeping your loves close." The man removed a wrinkled picture form his apron pocket. A pretty Native American woman with honest eyes smiled into the camera. The photo itself looked old, probably more than twenty years. "My Ma. Kept me on the straight and narrow; helped me run this place up 'til she passed a few years back."

"She's lovely."

"That she was. Loveliest lady in the South. Better than my ex-wife, anyways." The man snorted at his own joke. "Now there was a Devil in pretty clothin'." He tucked the precious picture away. "Who are you carrying with you?"

Claire flipped to a photo of her family together. "This is my mom and dad. They're a pain. But I love them anyway." Her fingernail tapped on each of them in turn. She swept it over to the image of her brother. "This is Chris. He's my brother. Actually, he's the reason I'm headed back home."

"Personal reasons?"

"We lost contact with him a few months ago. He just vanished—no calls or anything. I'm hoping to track him down."

Sal looked troubled for a moment. "I hope the boy hasn't done anythin' bad. Hope for your sake he's safe."

"He's a cop, so he can look after himself."

Claire finished her poppers and Sal set the Rangeburger in front of her. The monstrous bit of food could hardly be called a burger, since it also happened to be topped off with an onion ring and fried egg. It made her mouth water. The overnight trip had drained her more than she'd realized.

Sal left her to her meal. She scarfed down the food with little thought. Her eyes wandered again over the décor of the building, taking in everything. She had always loved the feel of these little hole-in-the-wall establishments. They were warm, welcoming. Smiling, the young woman watched the bikers in the corner play Cutthroat. Normally, she'd join in but she was beginning to feel her ride: she chafed and her legs were stiff; her back protested its hunched position and her shoulders were heavy. Her eyelids began drooping as she took the last bite of her meal. Shoving the food down her gullet, she whipped out a twenty and left it on the counter for Sal to pick up. It was certainly more than the meal was worth but she made sure to always tip handsomely. Besides, she could always earn it back while hustling on the road. After all, that was how she made most of her money.

The motel next door was less welcoming and was far less maintained than the bar. It was clear that it got very little traffic or was perhaps just a place for patrons of Sal's to sleep off their intoxication. The woman manning the front desk was brusque with Claire, blowing her off in favor of watching the television in the corner. The place had an odd smell that Claire had come to associate with mildew. It wasn't ideal, but the road had led the biker to far worse accommodations. Checking in was simple and she found her room fairly easily. It was located on prime real estate, right next to the ice and vending machines.

The young woman dropped her heavy backpack on the ground with a low groan and made her way over to the bed, where she plopped down face-first into the comforter. She almost didn't have enough energy to climb under the covers. Despite that, she was highly aware that she was desperately in need of a shower. Sighing, she got up and examined her room. It was dimly lit, but not nearly as dirty as she would have first guessed. It was obvious that most of the furniture was decades old and worn, but it was kept up with fairly well. The restroom was clean, with the sink, toilets, and tub scrubbed meticulously. Thank God for good housekeeping staff!

Her shower was quick and hot, just enough to melt off the layer of dust that'd made itself at home on her body. Her teeth were brushed and she dried her hair before crawling into the covers. For a moment, she laid awake in the dimly lit room. Something felt off. She couldn't quite explain it, but a cold chill had settled over her body. Throwing off her covers, she rooted around in her bag until she found her photo album. Settling on an old Christmas photo form her childhood, she placed it on the nightstand next to the bed. Her family's smiling faces made her feel safe. Perfect.

Claire reached over and turned off the bedside lamp and fell quickly asleep, ignoring the early morning light that streamed in through the window's thick curtains. She'd continue in a few hours. She'd find Chris, even if she had to track him halfway across the globe. The big dummy.

:.:

Rae pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. She was exhausted, body craving sleep. The morning light streamed in through the windows on the upper floors of the police station. She'd been up for quite some time, helping the others search the station for the missing girl. They hadn't found her. Where could she have gone? Surely there wasn't anywhere in the station that a teenage girl could hide that they hadn't searched? The young woman had been paired up with Officer Edwards, scouring the West Hall all night long. They'd checked in lockers, underneath desks. Other parties had also swept over every inch of the station on the lookout for Paige. She was just gone.

Rae curled up underneath her red throw blanket, trying in vain to catch some shuteye. The barely-stifled sobs of the mother next to her kept her awake. The young children didn't understand where there sister and father had gone, though the preteen of the bunch had maintained a solemn silence all night, holding his mother. Restless, the young woman tossed and turned in her uncomfortable cot. Pressing the foam pillow over her head, she tried to block out the light and sounds. Even without external stimuli her mind continued to race.

Where could Paige had gone? Was she safe wherever she was? It was highly probably that the young girl was already dead. Rae's stomach flipped and she curled in on herself. Could zombies have breached the fence and gotten into the station somehow? That would explain the attack the night before. The man who'd turned _had _to have been infected after arriving, especially if the incubation period was around eight hours. Or maybe it affected people differently? There were still so many unknowns.

Unable to rest, Rae sat up in her cot and threw off her blanket. At least she could make herself useful. She could fret herself to death some other time. The young woman paced the length of the Main Hall, looking for something to do. The East was cordoned off in an effort to contain the spread of the infection within the station. The police officers were treating the attack site as a biohazard. Smart, given that blood seemed to be the primary way the damn thing spread. A small crowd had gathered around the entrance to the Hall, blocked off by some officers that Rae had yet to meet. She recognized one of the men as Slaughessy from a few days ago, though the other was new. Both men wore riot gear, like what Kyle had donned. Rae's heart hurt for a moment. That felt like so long ago.

The crowd was murmuring with fear and anticipation. A man was at the head of the mob, exchanging heated words with Officer Slaughessy. "What the hell do you man, 'we can't see the fucking doctor'?! We have injured here! That's bullshit and you know it!" The man got in the officer's face, practically yelling at him. "Get out of my way!"

Slaughessy tried to shove the man away, only escalating things. "Get back! We're under orders not to allow anybody in this wing."

"You son of a bitch!" The man raised his arm to take a swing at the officer, who in turn pulled his gun and trained it on the other. Whoa! Rae backed away from the scene, afraid that it'd get worse.

"Both of you calm down." Marvin Branagh stepped out from the East, taking off a disposable mask. He turned his vision towards his officer. "Stand down, Slaughessy." Then, the man turned towards where the aggressor was standing. "Now, is there any particular reason you decided to try and assault one of my men?"

"We need a doctor. My brother suffered horrible burns and his pain medication is wearing off." Ah. His brother must have been the one being treated as Rae was entering the station. Still, it was a lost cause. Burns got infected easily, and without proper treatment the man would probably die. Rae's distant cousin Mark lost his arm to an infection after an accident with gasoline had claimed most of his skin.

Lieutenant Branagh sighed and shook his head, eyes tired. "I'm afraid there's nobody who can help. Doctor Tsu passed during the night."

"Our doctor is dead?" The aggressive man was floored at the revelation. "Shit. Shitshitshit. Then who the hell is going to treat the injured? Who's going to take care of my brother?!"

Branagh looked defeated, honestly and truly. "I'm certain there are a few here who can provide basic first aid. Beyond that, I'm afraid we're on our own until rescue comes." If rescue came.

Rae pressed herself against one of the decorative pillars near the front desk as the crowd seemed to take in exactly what was said. The murmuring turned into frenzied chatter. The people seemed unsure of exactly how to react, only knowing that they were _panicking_ about _something_. A young woman started sobbing, while a greying elderly man began fervent prayers. She didn't want to be in the middle of that writhing, chaotic mass. The noise grew louder as the terror began truly settling in. She listened to their frantic whisperings.

"—about the zombies?"

"—Dead. We're all—"

"No doctor?! My mother has pneumonia and—"

Lieutenant Branagh pressed his was past the shell-shocked civilians. His tired ocher eyes met Rae's. The young woman nodded in acknowledgement, but made no attempt to talk. He clearly wasn't in the mood. Officer Edwards walked into the Main Hall as well, shoving his way through the crowd. He removed his mask and sterile gloves before making a beeline to Rae. Gesturing for her to follow with a jerk of his chin, he kept moving past her and through the door that lead to the West Offices.

Rae followed his silent signal, leaving the group behind to their own devices. When the Offices door shut behind her, she leaned heavily against it and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Edwards' shoulders sagged heavily. Rae had gotten to know him a little during the search the night before, but she still felt a bit awkward around the older man. She stood still, unsure of what to say or what he wanted to talk to her about. The light haired man rested his head on the wood of his desk. There he rested for a few moments before sitting up and speaking.

"How far do you think a large group could get outside?"

Rae's eyes narrowed. "Not far. The noise would probably attract attention."

"Damn," the man sighed, though he didn't sound surprised. "Not that we could move this group anyway. We have sick, elderly, injured."

"Why?"

He looked at her plain in the eyes and whispered, "The station's compromised. It isn't safe here anymore." He ran a hand over his cropped hair. "We don't know how that man was infected. But Doctor Tsu came back to life a few minutes after we left the scene. And that man who was bit? He changed. This damn thing spreads so fast, it's..."

The young woman felt a bit uncomfortable. She doubted he should be sharing this with her. She rubbed her arm anxiously. "Where are they? The bodies, I mean?"

"Buried in the front courtyard with the ones from the other day. We covered them in plastic and taped 'em up really good. Still, it makes me nervous."

Rae pulled up a chair beside the officer. She swept her gaze over his desk, noting with a heavy heart the pictures of his family. He hadn't heard from his wife and daughter since the infection started, though he'd called again and again. He'd unloaded on her the night before, telling her all about them. She hoped they'd made it out of the city. The young woman curled up in her seat and rested her cheek on her hand, elbow propped up on the neighboring desk.

"How do you think he got sick?"

"Dunno. He wasn't friends with any of the people we put into the cells below. There's a slim chance he got it from them. Apparently, the guy was a loner. Started showing symptoms of sickness early yesterday. The civilians thought it was just a cold, so they didn't bother alerting anybody. Fuckin' idiots," he muttered under his breath. "Don't they know it's the damn zombie apocalypse outside?!" He threw his arms up in exasperation.

Rae wasn't so sure that they really knew what was going on. Sure, she'd gotten to sit down and have a nice one-on-one chat with the officers, but the other civilians probably hadn't gotten as much. There had been a non-living, non-breathing zombie in front of them in the Main Hall during the first day of their refuge, but that was easily explained away with logic. The whole stupid situation that they'd wound up in defied logic. To most of the civilians, there was probably just some horrible sickness going around and some riots happening. It wouldn't matter if the guy in the bed next to them had a little cold as long as they avoided him. People were stupid in these kinds of situations. Well, if the movies Rae had watched were any indicator, people were stupid in general.

"They probably didn't think anything of it. A little cold doesn't really equal a debilitating sickness in the eyes of most people. And I guarantee that most of those idiots out there don't actually believe in zombies."

"They saw one—if not more than one!"

"I didn't say it was logical. I mean, I did call them idiots, didn't I?" Rae shrugged. She looked down at the wooden floor, trying to think of something to say. "If you saw a unicorn prance right in front of you, you still probably wouldn't believe in unicorns. You'd just think that some schmuck had glued a prop to some poor horse's head. The same thing applies for them. They don't see zombies where we see zombies."

Edwards groaned in annoyance. "Unicorns and zombies, huh? Shit. My life took a turn for the worse, didn't it?" Rae shrugged again. "You're no help at all."

"I know. Sorry."

"Our officers are on the lookout for any more people showing symptoms. If we can track this thing, we can get rid of it at the source. Do you know if it can be spread any other way? I know blood contact, but anything else?"

"I'm not sure. I mean, it's not airborne or we'd all have probably gotten sick at the same time. Lieutenant Branagh asked if maybe people could get it by exchanging, ahem, _bodily fluids_." Rae's cheeks lit up. "I don't know, though."

"Maybe our attacker last night wasn't infected by a human."

"An animal bite?"

"Well, rats did spread the plague, right? And the dogs below…" Rae shivered at the memory. Edwards gave her a sympathetic look but continued. "Or not animals. Maybe insects? Maybe mosquitoes are carriers as well?"

Rae's eyebrows furrowed. If insects could carry the disease, were they really safe anywhere? Then again, the cold snap surely would've killed off most of the insects, right? It had gotten pretty chilly at night the past week. She definitely hadn't seen any flies, at least. But all it would take was one surviving vermin to pass it on. If the insects were infectious, then the infection could easily make its way across the US. It'd be impossible to stop the spread until winter hit.

They both heard a loud popping noise and looked at each other curiously. A gunshot? Edwards' radio hummed a little and he turned it up so he could listen in on it. It wasn't loud enough for Rae to hear, but the grim look on his face was enough to go off of. The man got out of his chair without a word and made his way across the room, towards the door that lead out into the West Hallway. Curious as always, Rae tagged along behind. She angled her sling so that her arm would stop bumping uncomfortably against her chest. She hoped that the sound earlier hadn't been a gunshot.

She didn't get her wish.

They stumbled across the body of a young man in blue. Two other officers were leaning over the body by the time they arrived. The young man had a gun in his hand and a hole in his head. Rea averted her eyes leaned over a nearby trash can just in time to retch up her meager canned lunch. She heaved again and again in the bin until her stomach wasn't dancing in place. Feeling weak, she clenched her hands around the rim to support herself.

"Tanner," she heard the female officer say. She'd recognized the woman as Officer Phillips. The Hispanic woman was breathing heavily, probably trying to keep from crying.

"Shit, not him," Officer Edwards murmured, leaning down to inspect the body. The young officer couldn't have been older than Kyle. "Suicide?"

Phillips nodded solemnly. "I knew something was wrong. He was always so nervous, so I figured it was just how he was dealing with everything. Oh God, I should've said something." The woman pressed a hand to her mouth and began sobbing into it. "It's all my fault!"

The other male officer, whose nametag read 'Golden', puller her into a tight hug. He rocked the woman as she cried. Edwards stood over the body, seemingly unsure of what to do. He gave Rae a helpless look. It spoke volumes of just how much he was _not_ qualified to handle something like that. Who would've ever guessed the young man would take the quick way out? Most people didn't think like that. How were they supposed to predict it?

A firm hand was placed on the young woman's shoulder and she looked over it to meet the eyes of Marvin Branagh. "Miss Colter. I'd like to ask you to leave us for a moment." His tone was heavy and his voice shook. "We have a brother to bury."

Rae, overwhelmed, nodded stupidly and ran past him back out to her makeshift bed. There, she hid under the covers. She only peeked her head out as the officers carried a body, swathed in plastic, past her cot and into the East Hall. They met little resistance, as the crowd had long dissipated.

:.:

_Indefinite Hiatus, but we WILL meet again!_

:.:

**Reviewers:  
**Yuu Anoya Me: Glad you liked it enough to go through and reread it. Seriously made my whole month, reading that! I'm sorry I've been gone for so long and dropped off the face of the Earth. I've been pretty darn busy with life. But feel free to PM me anytime. It's always good hearing from other writers and readers on here, especially since the community on FFNet isn't as tight as it once was. As always, thank you for your feedback!

psychxdelix: Glad to see you still enjoying it! Hope I can get some action onscreen for you soon. Unfortunately, it's still in the world-building stages. But stuff's about to hit the metaphorical fan here in a bit! As always, thank you for your feedback!

DivineBahamutXZ: I am well aware of Lickers' lack of eyes and their blindness. I've actually unlocked the character models in-game for both those and some of the common zombies seen around the station. In those character models, as well as in cutscenes and within typical gameplay itself, we can see what is clearly an incredibly heavy film over their eyes. This film is reminiscent of cataracts, which develop and cause deteriorated sight in both humans and animals. It can also be explained by the fact that eyes are amongst the first parts of the body to putrefy during early decomposition. As mentioned in Chapter 2 and restated again for a brief point in Chapter 5 during Rae's conversation with Marvin, she discovered that what she originally mistook for complete blindness in Chapter 1 was actually heavily deteriorated sight caused by this milky film. The zombies in this story are reactive both to movement and light, which was displayed in Chapter 2 and was shaping up to be a sort of dramatic reveal regarding Rae-which may or may not happen now. Unfortunately, since we have to use Rae as a mouthpiece, we're only privy to the information that she has; that includes any assumptions—right or wrong—that are made about the undead. Please keep in mind that not only do we have a somewhat unreliable narrator, but this is also _fanfiction_ and there may be some elements of canon that I have changed to better suit my story. I had originally intended on ignoring the continuity of the Darkside Chronicles and the Outbreak Files as well. As always, thanks for your feedback.

TheNymphOfTheCherryTree: I'm glad that you like Rae's awareness. I wanted her to have common sense. You know, that thing that most characters in horror movies/games don't have at all. As always, thank you for your feedback!

nico2411: Don't be afraid to ramble; I seriously love longer reviews. More feedback=better author. I thought I was being smart, having everything backed onto a flash drive. I usually remove it after I'm done typing, so I thought I'd still have my documents even if the computer was killed. But I forgot to remove the drive. Bad luck happens sometimes. Anyway, I hope to keep you guys posted as to my progress on the story and whether or not I'll keep updating this story or do a remake. Bottom line, though, this story WILL be staying up whatever my choice may be. As always, thank you for your feedback!

A-Prayer-4-da-Damned: Our baby boy Kennedy needs to be the sass-master! The Remake didn't do his character justice, in my opinion. I want that kiddo so full of layers that he'll make onions and ogres jealous. Glad you like Rae. I actually based her personality on my cousin, who's the most awkward person I've ever met. I have a bit of 'tude, so it's hard for me to write a character who's more reserved. I'm going to try get back in the saddle ASAP, but it might take a bit of prodding from my Beta. But I do hope to see you back when I do start uploading again! As always, thank you for your feedback!

Onesmartcookie78: While writing smut is _technically _against FFNet's rules, I'm hoping that I can skate under the radar. I much prefer this community over AO3, because there's a bigger reach and it seems easier to find a writing niche. That said, I don't understand why FFNet can't just conjure up an Explicit rating and shove EX and M fics behind an age wall to keep the kiddos safe. Oh well. As always, thank you for your feedback!

_Thank you to all who've put me and this story on Alert or Favorite. Love you guys!_


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